Duty's Journey
by Willowstead
Summary: Sequel to "Duty." Alistair & Elinora must walk their paths apart & only by fulfilling their duties can they reunite. Rated M for sex & violence. Thanks everyone who had followed, favorited, alerted and reviewed!
1. Chapter 1 A Brother's Duty

A/N: If you haven't read "Duty" yet, go do it now. This is the direct sequel. Also, there are no references to "Awakenings." I haven't played it yet and plan to write this world without it. And now, on with it!

**Duty's Journey – Chapter 1**

**A Brother's Duty**

Denerim – Two days after the coronation of King Alistair

"Where is she!?"

His voice echoed through the hall and every eye turned on him. Fergus had meant to be calm and polite, a loyal Teryn to his majesty. One day in Denerim had changed that.

Rumor ran rampant. On the road from the Korcari Wilds, he'd heard a thousand different versions of the Battle of Denerim and the fall of the archdemon, enough to know that the first place he should look for his little sister was the palace. But talk changed once he'd reached the city. Elinora was alive, was missing, had broken the king's heart, the king had broken her heart, she'd become an abomination and some even whispered that she had dropped dead at the ball.

And his majesty had kept him waiting. Well, his majesty's heralds had. Once he entered the Great Hall, Fergus simply couldn't contain himself anymore.

Alistair looked in confusion at the angry man in front of him. He was about Alistair's own age, clearly a warrior, and looked vaguely familiar. Realization hit Alistair just as his herald said "Your majesty, Fergus Cousland of Highever."

"I take it you mean your sister? Right, well… she's gone. You just missed her." Well, that sounded perfectly callous and awful. Which is why he shouldn't have been surprised at the punch that slammed into his jaw. Alistair went down and about twenty guards fell on Fergus.

Alistair regained his feet and found Fergus pinned to the ground by of half of the men that had rushed him, and the rest with weapons drawn. He sighed and rubbed his jaw. "Let Teryn Cousland up, I deserved that."

The guards nodded and Fergus rose a little unsteadily. Alistair threw an arm over his shoulders, "Come on, it's a long story and we're going to need a few ales to tell the whole thing." Alistair steered Fergus out of the Great Hall, ordering for food and drink to be brought to the study and that someone prepare quarters for Teryn Cousland.

"First off," Alistair started, "the last I saw her, she was perfectly fine. She was better than fine, she was amazing. But she felt it was her duty to go to Orlais and Weisshaupt and find more Grey Wardens to rebuild the Order here. We're it, you know."

Fergus nodded studied his king, the man his sister had been in the company of for almost a year. "So I've heard. She always was bull-headed about that sort of thing. What I need to know, your majesty, is if I need to defend Elinora's honor. Do we need to duel or something?"

"Um… no? Well, I mean, if it would make you feel better…"

"You'd better start from the beginning."

Alistair did. He started from Ostagar and wound all the way to the Battle of Denerim. He, admittedly, skipped certain details, those which would have made the tale interminable and some that were a little too private. But Fergus got the idea. The king in front of him was deeply in love with his little sister, and she had left him to do what must be done. Alistair even showed Fergus her note, tear stains and all.

"She slipped out during the ball," Alistair sighed, pushing his half empty tankard from hand to hand. "She knew I wouldn't willingly let her go. I'd have married her and worried about the throne later."

"Father would have approved, but Mother would have forbidden it for the sake of the nation. Cousland women are not romantics."

"Speaking of which, Highever. It's still yours, despite everything. You know, right? What Howe did." It was not a conversation he wanted to have.

Fergus nodded slowly. "I know, I went there first. It was practically abandoned. I set some folk working to set it to rights. I hope I didn't overstep my bounds."

"No, no, it needed doing, of course. I'm glad of it."

"I'm not. Had I come here first I might have caught her and convinced her to stay."

"But you have a duty to Highever."

"And my family, yes. Eli could take care of herself, clearly." Fergus drank down his beer with a sad smile.

"But what happened to you? After Ostagar… we couldn't wait."

Fergus brushed off Alistair's excuses. "I understand, the Blight was more pressing and after Lohgain's betrayal and the death of the King and the Wardens… anyway…" Fergus launched into his own tale. A Darkspawn patrol caught Fergus's scouting party and widdled their numbers down, so they were grossly outnumbered when a second patrol caught them. Fergus was left for dead, but found by a Chasind hunting party. It took a month for his injuries to heal enough to get out of bed, much less travel. That took another four. Once he could, he set out for Ostagar and after finding that in ruins, he headed for Highever. Travel was very slow and hampered by civil unrest and Darkspawn.

"All I could think about was getting home. By Lothering I was hearing rumors about Highever from refugees. Some of them came with me, having no where else to go." He rubbed the heels of his hands to eyes. "What a mess."

"Be glad you only have a Teryning to clean up. A probably no more than a dozen Banns throwing their daughters at you," Alistair commented bitterly.

"Not yet. At least not until after a proper time of mourning." Fergus stared into his beer, remembering the wife and son so cruelly murdered. He missed them terribly. He was pulled away from his grief by Alistair playing with Elinora's note. "So you're really going to do it?"

"What?"

"Marry someone other than my sister."

"You saw her note. Would you disobey a direct order from her?"

Fergus half smiled, missing the bossy little girl that used to terrorize the stable hands. "When you put it that way… But you do love her, right?"

"More than anything."

"And if things were different?"

"I would have married her months ago. Found a little Chantry somewhere, settled down then had an army of fat babies."

"Instead you are wedded to your duty. Both of you."

"Yes, and a cold marriage bed it is." Alistair and sighed and stared out the window.

The Waking Sea – same day

Elinora Cousland looked over the port side of the ship. They were far enough out that she could just see the cliffs that Highever was on. It was much too far to see what banner was flying, if any. Had Fergus returned? Was Highever a ruin? Did someone else hold it? The captain had turned down her bribe to sail closer, saying that the craggy shore was far too dangerous. Which it was. She had to settle for watching the cliffs drift by and suffer the questions and memories that drifted through her mind.

Once the cliffs were out of sight, she withdrew to her cabin and allowed herself to cry.


	2. Chapter 2 Alone in the Crowd

**Duty's Journey Chapter 2**

**Alone in the Crowd**

Cumberland – Four days later

This city was insane.

Since Elinora Cousland had stepped off the ship yesterday, she had gotten lost three times. She did not get lost, not in the Brecilian Forest, not in the Deep Roads and not in the palace when she wasn't even paying attention. But Cumberland confounded her.

At least it was pretty.

Nevarrans were great appreciators of art and beauty in all its forms, and on every street corner there was something interesting going on. Unfortunately, their city planners were more interested in complementing the curvature of the landscape than making sensible streets. Every square, street and corner had its own, overly poetic name, sometimes changing halfway through.

At least she had found a decent inn the night before, recommended to her by a constable after she had taken care of a group of ruffians. That lot would have been laughed out of Denerim, matching tunics and all. But it bought her a few rounds of fine wine and a good nights sleep for her and Finn.

Today her plans were simple; get some armor and get out of the city. A passable set of drakescale armor had been easily procured, but getting out of the city was proving more difficult. In the end, she trailed a merchant caravan; three wagons with a motley assortment of goods and people, heading north and west.

Once out of the massive gates, she parted from the caravan and started at a light jog to get away from the crowds as soon as possible. The attractive clutter of the city gave way fairly quickly to rolling fields on the northern side of the road and the sea on the other. In a day or two, Elinora would connect with the Imperial Highway and follow it as far as Vol Dorma. Her best estimate, providing the weather held fair, was that it would take a month.

By sunset Cumberland was completely out of sight and a light forest had replaced the fields on the northern side of the road. She and Finn slipped into the woods and found themselves a campsite, one often used by travelers by the looks of it. Finn, back in his element, hunted up a rabbit for dinner. And all was well.

Until the quiet set in.

Elinora couldn't remember a time she was more alone. Ever since Ostagar, there had always been someone near by. And before that she had always lived in a castle full of people, her family and their retainers. Now it was just she and Finn. At least she had Finn. She leaned her head against his strong shoulder.

The tears came unbidden and unabashed. It had been about a year since Howe's betrayal at Highever, since becoming a Grey Warden, since meeting Alistair. Her entire life, all the vague plans and dreams she had ever had for herself and been wiped away, rebuilt and wiped away again. For all the sacrifices made, she had nothing to show for it, nothing of her very own.

She admonished herself for being so selfish. The Blight was ended, there would be no more deaths from that quarter, no more orphans, but that didn't ease her loneliness. The edge was all the sharper because this wasn't how the story was supposed to end. Ever since he handed her that rose, she knew how it should go; happily ever after. King Alistair and his warrior Queen Elinora and their brood of wily children.

But it was not to be.

The taint, Morrigan, politics and duty. They had all played a role in driving them apart. And there was nothing more to be done. He would stay on his throne and she would walk her long road alone.

At least no one would see her cry herself to sleep.

Denerim

Alistair leaned against the door to his chambers and let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Eamon had invited at least a dozen young women to dinner, all single, of marriageable age and noble. There had even been a few foreign girls in the mix. They had all been pretty and flattering and silly.

Not one had been her. No even close.

"Outnumbered and out-maneuvered by Darkspawn and I have never seen you run, but a horde of pretty girls and you flee like a mouse from a cat," said a smooth voice from the corner.

"Zev? Andraste's holy… how did you get in here?"

The elf moved from behind a curtain into the open with a shrug. "This place is not so hard to get around undetected. You might want to look into that."

Alistair waved it off as he fell into an armchair by the fire. Zevran poured two cups of wine, handed one to Alistair, and sat in the chair opposite the harried king.

"I understand Teryn Cousland left this morning."

"Yes."

"And this evening Arl Eamon brings a bevy of beautiful women to dinner."

"Right."

"You know what he is doing, I am sure."

Alistair sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Yes, I know. He's trying to find me a wife."

Zevran shook his head and turned to the fire. "He is trying to get you to forget her."

Alistair stared into his wine, saying nothing.

"And why not? She did leave you, did she not? Off to find her precious Grey Wardens and leave you all alone."

"What?"

"And in your position, she could not expect you to remain alone for long. A king needs heirs, and she, while I know a fine playmate, could not…" Whatever it was that Elinora could not do was lost as Alistair delivered a right hook to Zevran's jaw. The assassin was taken by surprise and knocked out of his chair.

Alistair rose and hovered over Zevran. "You will not speak of her like that."

Zevran rubbed his jaw and grinned. "Good. Maybe with that passion you will not forget her."

"I never could." Alistair hung his head and moved toward the fire, leaning against he mantle. "But I still need an heir."

"What of it? Marry, have a dozen squalling urchins, and leave them all behind once she comes back."

"Some husband I would be. What if she doesn't come back?"

"She will be back. Of that I am sure." Zevran put a comforting hand on Alistair's shoulder, the other still rubbing his jaw. "Now, you will excuse me. I think I need to find a healer."


	3. Chapter 3 Company Girl

A/N - My apologies for double notifications. I keep forgetting to format!

**Duty's Journey - Chapter 3**

**Company Girl**

Somewhere on the Imperial Highway – a few days later

Sleep was eluding Elinora. Each night she tried to bed down, exhausted from the day's march, and each night she couldn't get or stay asleep. It was slowing her progress down, her feet dragging with each step further away from home, away from him. She could swear she could feel the weight of the rose in her pack.

She'd given up on a normal sleep schedule. She walked when awake and rested when tired, ate when food was available. The Imperial Highway was perfectly travelable by either night or day, so her route did not hamper her. It was also very boring.

So dull the road was, that she was a little grateful when she heard the cries of distress ahead of her. She sprinted towards the noise, to find a wagon under attack by a half dozen brigands. Elinora did not ask questions, but threw herself into battle, Finn close on her heels.

A few minutes and a few close calls later, it was all over. All six bandits lay dead, as well as one of the caravaners.

"Well met, young lady!" A dwarven merchant put his hand out. Elinora took it. "Name's Tesh Danton, I'm head of this lot and owe you a great debt, lady…"

"Eli Riordan," she said quickly. "No lady, I assure you."

"Hm, so it seems. Ferelden, I take it." Tesh glanced at Finn and Elinora nodded. "Heard there's quite the mess there, I can understand why you'd be out in the world."

"Yes, quite the mess. Didn't want to stick around for the clean up." A little truth made the lies so much easier.

A Dwarven woman stepped down from the wagon, a baby wrapped in her arms. "Its over then? I told you he was trouble." She jerked her head toward the human corpse on the road.

"Yes, yes, you were right, as usual, my dear. How did Beni and Gena fare?"

"We're fine!" came from the wagon. Two young elvish faces, one male one female, poked out of the coverings.

"Neven! How's the team?" Tesh looked to an old human man at the head of the horses.

Neven shrugged. "A bit spooked but unharmed. And I'm fine, you legless git!"

Elinora caught herself smiling. The woman, bouncing her baby was giving her a sizing look. She nodded to her husband.

"Well," Tesh turned back to Elinora. "I'm out a guard, sodding good-for-nothing he was too, and you seem to know what you're about with a blade. Care for a job?"

Denerim

Alistair yawned mightily as he headed for his chambers. So many papers to deal with; treaties, requests, petitions, remembrances, the list was unending, and that was just what Eamon decided that he needed to handle personally. It was boring and overwhelming at the same time. It didn't help that he wasn't getting any exercise either. All together, he was feeling very sluggish.

Which was why it took him a moment to notice that there was a girl in his bed.

A naked girl.

He'd made it all the way to the edge of the bed and was pulling off his shirt when she cleared her throat. Startled, he just stared, the shirt still hanging off his arms.

A seductive smile poured over her full lips. She shook out her dark, wavy hair, which made everything else quiver just so. "Good evening, your majesty."

"Um…. Who are you and what are you doing in my bed… wait. I know you, you're Patria, Bann Somer's daughter!"

Her smile brightened a little. "I am honored your majesty remembers. As for your other question," she rolled on to her side, draping a graceful hand on her hip, "I think it's obvious what I'm doing here."

"Trying to get me killed by your father?" King or not, Alistair had heard tales of angered fathers of dishonored daughters. He had no intention of dueling one of his Banns or getting castrated.

She snorted a little laughter, her brown eyes twinkling. "Hardly. This is his idea." She slithered across the bed towards him. A graceful arm lazily reached towards his belt, but he stepped out of reach.

Her smile didn't falter a bit. "Let me be plain. Your majesty needs an heir. After tonight, if I am with child, you shall have one. We can marry then."

Alistair stood where he was, still staring, mouth slightly open. Out of shock, or course, not because Patria was very carefully moving to show him every charm she offered.

"Your majesty has a duty to Ferelden," she continued, "and I can make that duty very pleasant indeed." She gave him a calculating look up and down. "Listen to your body now, put your heart away."

His eyes met hers. She understood that she would never been first in his heart, even if she became his wife and mother of his children. If she could make that sacrifice, maybe he could too. His lions certainly wanted him to try.

Alistair threw his shirt aside and turned down the lamp on the vanity. If it was dark enough, maybe he could pretend it was her.


	4. Chapter 4 Longing

A/N: Just remember kids, love needs to be tested now and again…

**Duty's Journey - Chapter 4**

**Longing**

On the edge of the Silent Plains – Two weeks later

Despite growing up on the edge of the Waking Sea, Elinora had never seen anything so open and vast in her entire life. The Silent Plains stretched on for leagues without a tree or hill to break up the carpet of green and the ceiling of blue.

How Tesh and Bala could stand it, she didn't know, nor ask.

"So," she looked over at Neven who was walking ahead of the wagon with her, "why would anyone have a great market in the middle of… that?" She waved her hand in the general direction of the Plain.

"Because all you need is a stepladder to see for miles. No bandit raids. And its good for pasturing horses. Come on, we're going to make camp here early and set out tomorrow."

Elinora nodded and got to work setting up camp. She sent Finn hunting and wasn't surprised when he returned quickly with a nice fat rabbit. Bala, baby Remin in her arms, examined dinner, still kicking in Finn's jaws, and then unceremoniously pushed Remin into Elinora's hands.

"Um, Bala, I'm not really good with…"

"Nonsense, Eli. I just need you to hold him while I get hold of this coney. That hound of yours is a right good hunter." Bala plucked the rabbit from Finn's jaws, gave him a scratch behind the ears and went about cleaning it.

Remin, in the meantime, had gotten hold of a lock of Elinora's hair and was contentedly chewing on it. He looked at her with baby eyes and waved baby fists at her, and her heart, so neatly forgotten about, melted. She sat down on an obliging rock and cuddled Remin close to her.

Sweet Andraste, she thought, why did I have to give this up?

She played the afternoon away with Remin, Bala quietly putting Gena or Beni to the chores usually reserved for Elinora. Elinora didn't even notice until the sun was almost down and Bala was handing her rabbit stew and flatbread. Remin was rocking in Elinora's helmet, giggling with delight at the ride.

"Uh-oh, someone's found a new toy," Bala smiled as she picked up her son and bounced him. "And a new playmate it seems."

Elinora blushed behind a bite of stew. "I really have no maternal instincts."

"Oh yes, I can tell. Bedtime for you, my boy!" Bala gathered up her son and bid Elinora a good night.

Elinora took her usual second watch that night, walking the perimeter, sitting by the fire and, more than any night before, feeling. Something about playing with Remin had opened up all the emotions she had locked away. One face returned to her again and again.

Alistair.

She had been able to forget him for a time, Tesh's crew being a very pleasant distraction, but tonight she ached for his touch, his laugh, just his warm presence next to her. When Neven relieved her, she went to her tent and dug deep into her pack for something she hadn't wanted to look at for a long time.

Alistair's rose, still perfect in its box, opened the floodgates on a thousand memories. Nights in camp, by the fire, in his tent, every touch and kiss. Oh how she missed him. Tears fell, kept quiet by virtue of biting her hand. Eventually they drained her into a fitful sleep.

Denerim

With the tolling of a gong, Alistair set aside the document he had been reading. It was time for dinner and to be done with work. He gave his Chancellor a sly look. "So, Eamon, any guests scheduled for dinner tonight?"

"Just one, your majesty." Alistair groaned, but Eamon plunged on. "Mage Wynne has requested to join you."

"Wynne? Thank the Maker. I was worried for a moment that you'd have some other girl, trying to beget a royal heir."

"Not tonight, your majesty."

Alistair hurried out of the room before Eamon could add anything and jogged to the dining hall. Wynne was already there, sipping a goblet of wine. She bowed as he entered. "Your majesty."

"Oh please, don't. Formalities are unnecessary to the woman who darned my shirt and washed an errant sock or two."

"I wanted to throw them in the fire." She smiled wryly.

"And I would have deserved it if you had. Please." He pulled out her chair, then settled into his. The made small talk as the servants plated dinner and then departed, leaving them alone.

Alistair raised an eyebrow as the door shut. "Alright, so I take it there's something you wanted to lecture me about?"

"Why do you say that?"

"You ordered the servants to leave after they'd served dinner. What's on your mind?" He stuffed some braised fowl into his mouth.

Wynne took a deep breath and got to the point. "I understand Eamon has been bringing a great many noblewomen around for dinner."

Alistair's chewing slowed down, he swallowed. "Yes…"

"Last week Patria Somer came to see me. She wanted to know if she was pregnant." Alistair's expression clouded with something like worry. "Which she wasn't."

"Ah, yes… Patria…"

"And two days ago a young woman named Virala came to me with the same question. I believe her father is an Arl somewhere to the south?"

"Um…. Yes…"

"She's not pregnant either."

Alistair's face fell and he looked away. "I'm a bad man. The Chantry is going to break in here at any moment and accuse me of being an immoral lout. And she'll never speak to me again." The regret in his voice was palpable.

Wynne didn't have to ask who 'she' was. The mage put a comforting hand on her king's shoulder. "How much do you miss her?"

Metaphors piled up in his head, each worse and less accurate than the last. He shook his head. "There are no words for how much I miss her."

Wynne tapped a pondering finger on the table. "Do you have something of hers, maybe something she gave you?"

His mouth curled into a haunted smile. "A few figurines and runestones, her good-bye note. Why?"

Wynne thought a moment. "We all go to the Fade when we dream."

His eyebrows rose with disbelief. "You think I can find her there?"

"Maybe. Keep the items close when you sleep. If she does the same, then just maybe…"

Alistair kissed her cheek. "You're the best almost-grandmother a boy could have." He rose quickly and headed for his bedroom.

The Fade – Near dawn

He stood by a campfire, a familiar cooking pot bubbling over it and a very familiar tent set up beside it. He looked all around him, hoping she would appear. She didn't.

The camp was set on a lone island of rock, floating in the space of the Fade. In the distance he could make out what looked like a fortress, a black fortress. Or the Black City. He suppressed shiver, noticing the fire did not produce any heat.

Something in the tent moved. He went to draw a sword that wasn't there. "Come on out, whatever you are."

"Alistair?" Her voice, her sweet voice, came from the tent. The flap flew aside and there she was, dragonscale armor, braided hair and glowing blue-green eyes. She bit her lip as her eyes met his.

And then she was in arms and he was kissing her. And for a moment, all was right with the universe.

But the moment passed. He could feel her under his hands, but not like he used to. Her kisses weren't quite as warm. He pulled back and caressed her face, along the scar the archdemon had left her, but that sensation wasn't as clear as it should be.

"I've noticed too," she whispered. "It's the Fade, but I'll take it. I'll take any time I can get with you." Her lips returned to his.

Regretfully, he pulled away from her again. "We may not have long. Where are you?"

"The edge of the Silent Plains, with a merchant caravan." She smiled playfully. "They have no idea who I am. It's rather liberating."

"I'm jealous." He smiled wistfully, then thought of something. "Oh, this is important. Fergus came to see me, just after you left."

A wide, relieved smile broke out on her face. With a sigh she leaned her head on Alistair's chest. "I knew he wasn't dead."

"Most definitely not. He punched me, defending your honor."

Elinora giggled. "He always said he would do that."

"He's rebuilding Highever… hey!" Elinora started to fade in his arms. Even as he tried to grasp on to her, she vanished. "Damnit."

The Edge of the Silent Plains – dawn

Elinora awoke to the morning clatter of Bala preparing breakfast. She looked around her; her small tent, her pack and in her hand, Alistair's rose. With a sigh, she kissed it, closed up the box and went on with her day, her spirit just a little lighter.


	5. Chapter 5 The Turn

**Duty's Journey - Chapter 5**

**The Turn**

Outside Vol Dorma – Almost three months after the coronation of King Alistair

"Are you sure I can't change your mind, Eli?" Tesh's sadness was sincere. In their more than two months on the road together, she had become a part of the Danton family, a very useful part. They did not want to let her go.

Elinora blew one last raspberry on Remin's tummy, making him giggle and squirm, before handing him over to his mother. Remin did not let go of a lock of Elinora's hair, preferring to chew on it a bit longer. Bala pulled it away, causing her son to yowl just a little. "Yes, my dear, and the extra pair of hands have certainly been a great help. And you thought you didn't have any maternal instincts."

"Its not my instincts, Remin just has terrible taste in women." Elinora sighed and returned to the original topic. "But, I'm sorry, Tesh. I need to head west, and you are heading north."

"Ain't nothing west of here but Weisshaupt." Neven gave Elinora a knowing look from the other side of the fire. Which caused the rest of the Danton clan, dwarf and not, to look at her.

"What?" Elinora brushed at her armor. "Did Remin spit up on me?"

Neven's steady gaze stayed on her. "You can't outrun news, girl. And the Silent Plains ain't so silent."

"Did you really rip a dragon's head off with your bare hands?" Beni blurted.

Elinora hid her face in her hands. "No, I used a sword." She looked up to her companions. "How long have you known? It was the Plains Meet, wasn't it?"

Tesh poked the fire. "There had been some rumor and speculation before. We just got certain then."

"That was a month ago."

Neven shrugged. "Everyone has something to run from."

"King Alistair broke your heart, didn't he?" Gena asked softly.

A sad smile traced on Elinora's lips. "No, fate broke both our hearts, but maybe we can put them back together again." They'd met once more time in the Fade. Each night she hoped, but it wasn't easy to find each other. "But there are things to do first."

"Weisshaupt?"

"Weisshaupt."

"Well, if you're decided then girl, we shan't keep you." Tesh sighed. "I know that we've delayed you as it is, between our pace and trading stops. But you've been a great service to us, and we won't forget it."

Bala nodded to Gena, who pulled a large bundle wrapped in canvas out of the wagon. "It gets cold in the mountains."

Elinora opened the bundle up. A pair of heavy leggings, three pairs of stockings, two tunics and a heavy woolen cloak lay spread on the canvas. "How did you…?"

"As I said," Tesh leaned back with a proud grin, "we knew. Can't lose my best guard to frostbite, even if I have to lose her to the Grey Wardens."

"I knit the green stockings," announcing Gena proudly.

Beni, not to be outdone by his sister, piped up, "And I bargained for the wool, warmest of all the Silent Plains."

Bala grunted. "I just hope everything fits right. We had to guess at the measurements."

"And this too." Neven pulled out an object wrapped in a bit of fabric. Elinora unwrapped it to find a boot knife. "I don't fancy the idea of a girl walking into a fortress full of men without a little extra insurance. Even you."

Elinora stared at the pile of clothing and the knife in her hand. "I… its all so very kind of you." She looked around the campfire at the little self-made family that had taken her in so warmly, tears blurring their faces. In the two months she'd traveled with them, they had always made her feel welcome and wanted, not like hired help. It was just their way. Everyone earned their keep and everyone was an equal part of the clan. Even Beni and Gena, technically slaves, were treated as Tesh and Bala's own. Elinora did not want to leave them, but she had work to do.

But for tonight, she would enjoy a final evening with her adopted family.

Denerim

Chancellor Eamon looked at the note in his hand, one of many he had received, and pondered.

There had been a stream of them since Patria Somer. Titled ladies willing to throw themselves into Alistair's bed on the chance that they may become pregnant and then queen. It was the reverse of what was expected, and the Chantry was vocal in their outrage, but still in their action. They may not like this progress, but Ferelden needed an heir.

And somehow, Alistair had become a willing participant.

Well, Eamon supposed, it wasn't that surprising. He was a healthy young man after all.

But this, he flicked the note, was surprising.

_Add me to the list. – Anora_


	6. Chapter 6 A Cold Welcome

A/N: Oh my poor readers! I've gotten a couple of "Noooooooo!" reviews and I'm sorry to say that its going to get much, much worse before it gets better. Happy endings must be earned, and my poor Elinora and Alistair are going to earn it and then some.

But it would be boring otherwise, right?

Also, I'm not sure if this is a change of canon from Origins (I know it is if you include Awakenings, which I'm not), but Elinora is the only known female Grey Warden at present. Why will be revealed… eventually…

**Duty's Journey – Chapter 6**

**A Cold Welcome**

Weisshaupt Fortress – One week later

Wind-whipped snow blinded Elinora as she tried to get her first glance at Weisshaupt. She got the impression of high stonewalls, then nothing but white. She tucked her head down and kept trudging. Just a little further, and then there would be warmth. Finn whimpered at her side, staying close. She had to grab on to him for support a few times. Feeling was starting to fade away from her fingers and toes and each step got harder. Even with the gifts from the Dantons, she had not been prepared for this.

One painful foot in front of the other finally brought her to the gate, which was closed. She pounded the heavy oak doors, searching desperately for something that would be more effective. No bell or gong presented itself. She was a few heartbeats from collapsing into the snow when the gate opened just enough for her to be pulled in.

The wind stopped, blocked by high walls, though snow still fell and it was bone-chillingly cold. She wanted to enter the fortress proper, to get to a fire, but the arm that had pulled her in, held her where she stood.

A grizzled man stared at her like she was unicorn. His hand kept opening and closing on her upper arm.

"You're… you're a girl…"

_Oh sweet Andraste, that's how it was going to be_. "I am Elinora Cousland, Grey Warden from Ferelden. I've come to seek reinforcements."

"The Blight?"

"Is over, but we are wiped out." She shivered and felt a little dizzy. "Please, may we go inside and talk?"

He shook himself, nodded and led her into the fortress proper. The first set of oak doors lead to a wide foyer, built for defense. Through another set of door was the Great Hall, filled with long tables and a great many men, many of whom turned around at their entrance. Whispers and murmurs rippled through the crowd as her escort lead her to a chair before a massive fireplace.

"Fetch High Commander Gerlach, and be quick about it," her escort ordered a young man who had stepped up to stare. The young man ran to follow orders. "Aldo," he pointed to a meaty man in mage robes, "get a blanket and some soup or broth or tea. Something warm."

Elinora, finally sitting and regaining feeling in her extremities, pulled off her cloak, now sodden with melted snow. A new wave of whispers went around the room. Her escort gave the lot of them a gnarled look of disgust. "And the rest of you, find something to occupy yourselves." The men scattered like shooed geese. "I'm sorry about that, my lady. My name is Archard."

"Thank you for your help, Warden Archard." He grunted as he took her cloak and draped it on a chair next to the fire. The mage returned with a blanket and clay mug. Archard threw the blanket over her shoulders, took the mug, sniffed it, and handed it to Elinora. She took a tenuous sip of the worst tea she had ever tasted, which was saying something with Alistair's camp cooking. She pushed away the memories and drank the tea down, grateful for its warmth.

The young man returned a few minutes later, whispering to Archard that the High Commander would see her now. Archard looked to Elinora, who nodded, rose, and set the blanket aside. She ordered Finn to stay and guard her few possessions, which he seemed happy to do. She followed Archard deeper into the fortress.

Gerlach reminded Elinora of Duncan, but without a sense of humor. His stony face studied her, weighing and measuring. She did her best to stand up straight and look like someone who could slay an archdemon, though in truth, she just wanted to collapse. But she would not, not in front of the High Commander. She met is gaze bravely.

"So, the archdemon is dead. The Blight is over in Ferelden. And her last Grey Warden comes to Weisshaupt."

"Yes, Commander."

"Duncan started recruiting women, I see."

She cocked her head to one side. "Is that odd, Commander?"

He seemed surprised by the question, but answered it anyway. He would indulge this child. "It is exceptional. But we seek the best and the brightest, which I assume you are." His tone said nothing of the sort.

Elinora had no idea how to respond properly to that, but he waited for an answer. "I am a Grey Warden, Commander."

Gerlach grunted dismissively. "What is it you seek here, girl?"

The condensation he put in the word 'girl' rankled her, but she kept her tone even and respectful. "I seek information and seasoned Wardens to rebuild the Order in Ferelden."

"What sort of information?"

She looked him in the eye. "What a Warden Commander needs to know in order to fight Darkspawn and end a Blight. More mundanely, day-to-day operations, training and recruitment methods, that sort of thing."

"And you intend to be Ferelden's Warden Commander?"

She met his eyes, as equal in judgment as his. "Yes, High Commander, I do."

He grunted again. "That remains to be seen. Archard, find her private quarters. She shouldn't bed with the rest of the men. Dismissed."

With stiff bows, Elinora and Archard left the room.

She was not pleased with the interview, but was too exhausted to be anything but happy to leave the High Commander's office. She would prove her worth soon enough.

The quarters she was given were dark, dank and dusty. A narrow bed, a rickety table with a pitcher and bowl and a tiny shuttered window. Archard promised to find footlocker for her. For tonight he left her with a supper of porridge, a lamp and some blankets.

Alone again. And not even Finn to comfort her. He had been relegated to the kennels.

She ate, cleaned herself up, got out of her armor and did her best to clean it, but exhaustion and depression were taking their toll. She pulled the rose out of her pack and crawled into bed.

_Please Maker, let me find him tonight…._

The Fade

Elinora sat by their campfire, alone.

She had no idea how long it had been. She'd paced, cried out his name, concentrated until her head ached (which was odd, it being the Fade) and finally just settled in to wait. She did some thinking and planning and tried not to be disappointed.

"Oh, hello there."

One moment nothing, and then, quick as thought, Alistair stood beside her. She leapt up and hugged him.

"Darling, is everything alright?" He stroked her hair lovingly. Even the vagueness of the Fade-touch was comforting.

"Weisshaupt is awful. I almost froze getting there and the Commander…" she stopped. "What was that?" Elinora paused, listening. In the distance, she heard it again. Someone was calling Alistair's name.

Alistair stiffened, a look of horror blanching his face. He tried to return his features to normal, gentle fingers guiding her chin back to face him. "Its nothing, just the Fade being all Fade-like. You were saying?"

Elinora pulled away from him, walking to the edge of their island, searching for the source of the coy female voice that kept whispering sweet nothings to her love. She looked back to Alistair.

With all they'd been through, Morrigan included, she had never seen him look so humiliated and guilty. "You're not alone, are you?" Her voice broke just a little.

"I… look, you were the one who told me to find a wife and have children." He closed the distance between them. "I have a duty, remember?"

She shoved him, hard. He staggered back and fell over the logs they sat on. "You bastard! How…?" She didn't bother with the rest of the question, it was pointless. It hadn't seemed so bad when it was only a plan. The reality of their situation, of her being replaced in his bed and maybe his heart, was so very much harder. She turned away. He would not see her cry. "I won't bother you again."

And with that, she vanished.

Alistair sat on the ground, still staring at the spot where she had disappeared. "Come back," he whispered. Pushing himself off the ground he ran to the edge of their island. "Elinora! Come back!" he yelled into the void. His voice echoed, but there was no response.

Weisshaupt

Elinora sat up in bed, wracking sobs competing with the howling wind. She closed the rose's box carefully and gripped in her hand until it ached. Anger seeped into her grief. She threw the box into the complete darkness of her room and heard it smash into a wall. She buried her face into the musty blankets and wept.

Cried out, she decided that that was enough of this brokenhearted nonsense. She swore those were the last tears she would shed for Alistair Theirin.


	7. Chapter 7 Broken Dreams

A/N: Oh my poor audience, this is the chapter that just might kill you. Your English teacher might have referred to it as "The Crisis" of a story.

Huh… just realized this is quite the Shakespearan Act III. The man knew what he was doing (not that I'm comparing myself, just a structural observation – I'm a nerd like that).

And the next chapter will be up in 12 hours or so. I won't leave you hanging for long. Promise.

**Duty's Journey – Chapter 7**

**Broken Dreams**

Denerim – Nine months after the coronation of King Alistair

"… and thus it was that the Maker took Andraste by his side as wife, as it is with you, Alistair, and you, Anora. May your union bring peace and prosperity." The Grand Cleric stepped back with arms raised as the rather small crowd cheered and the newlyweds kissed each other briefly.

In the almost six months since he's last spoken to Elinora, a dozen women had come to his bed, and of all the ones to successfully conceive, it had to be her. Duty-bound and not interested in making a bastard of his child, he set to wed Anora, widow of his half-brother and daughter of a man he hated. Eamon and Wynne had advised waiting until she was through the first few months of pregnancy before committing to marriage. They had, much to Anora's displeasure. At least their union had the pleasant side effect of quelling a small rebellion set to put her on the throne.

Alistair would have rather had the rebellion.

Very little pomp and circumstance accompanied the wedding. The winter had been very hard on Ferelden. The Blight had ruined the growing seasons, creating a small famine. He refused to have a banquet while his people starved. The palace had already spent months on half-rations, the nobility feeling the hunger pains with the rest of the nation.

The only one excepted from rationing was Anora, mother of his heir. He wouldn't risk the child.

He had done his duty, and left like a traitor for it.

Weisshaupt – one day later

If Gerlach wanted to kill her, he could do it much faster with a hired Crow. But Elinora had a feeling he got a perverse pleasure watching her suffer. He would push her until she broke.

Elinora Cousland would not break.

Gerlach had no respect for her lithe fighting style, more suited to rogues and assassins. He insisted that she used techniques designed for warriors, which she did. No matter how many men twice her size he assigned to spar with her, no matter how many times he put her at the apex of a shield wall, a position that she couldn't possibly hold, she would not show him weakness. She would take whatever he threw at her, and ask for more. If he wanted a warrior, she would give him one.

Gerlach wasn't the only one making her life arduous. She was quite literally the only female in leagues. The other Wardens stared whenever she entered a common area, they were hesitant to spar with her and often had to be ordered. Some were perfectly normal once they got over her initial presence, some tried a little too hard to be gentlemen and some just made her skin crawl.

And so she generally avoided them. Elinora was up before dawn every morning, doing the prescribed Warden exercises, before anyone else in the fortress. After unit maneuvers and sparring, she delved into the Archives to do the research she needed to take back to Ferelden. She wanted to be away from here as soon as possible.

Oversleeping would not help in that endeavor. The steady patter of rain on her shutters had, for once, soothed her into a sound and dreamless sleep. The weather had gotten worse overnight, the downpour drowning out the watch-change gong that usually woke her from her fitful rest. She'd awakened at least an hour later than usual, which, despite hurrying to get dressed and to the exercise room, put her far behind schedule. She doubted anyone but Gerlach would notice.

She was about halfway through her routine, working sword forms with a wooden stick, when she realized she wasn't alone. Quennel stood in the doorway, watching her every move.

He was Orlesian, a former Chevalier and still carried all the swagger of one. The hungry leer on his alquine features was disconcerting.

"Good morning, Warden Elinora. Not so early as usual, I see," he drawled.

"No, not so early." She shrugged and continued her exercises, hoping her disinterest would shoo him away.

He did not leave. "Assassination forms, I see. Crow style?"

"Yes." Instinct warred with bravado. Something told her to get away from this man, but she wouldn't show him an ounce of concern. "If you'll excuse me, Warden Quennel." She stepped toward the door, but he put a smooth arm across it, blocking her passage. She retreated from him, her face schooled to neutrality.

He looked down at her, leaning his tall, thin frame over her a bit. His face was much too close to hers, his lank brown hair brushing her face. "I understand," he said lowly, "that you used to be a king's whore."

Every muscle went rigid. She fought the urge to hit him with the practice stick, but tried to keep her tone conversational. She would not let this leech get to her, and there was more important information to get. "Where did you hear that?" She took a step back, hoping he would spill his source.

He moved into the room, closing in on her, pulling the door shut behind him. It didn't catch, she noted. "I hear many things. I hear your heart beating right now."

"That's very interesting," and creepy. Curiosity was trampled by self-preservation. "I should go now." She tried to rush past him, pride and information bedamned.

His arm swung out, hitting her hand so that she dropped the practice stick. With a sweep to her legs, he knocked her to the floor and was on top of her before she could register the fall. They struggled a moment, she tried to get her knees into his stomach or groin, but he pinned her, his left arm across her chest and knife pressed against the right side of her face.

Quennel loomed over her, his nose almost touching hers. His right hand thrust under her tunic, clammy fingers grasping at her skin. "Move," he growled, "scream and I will give you another scar to match…"

He stopped when he felt the pressure at his groin. Her eyes locked with his as she hissed, "Move that hand another inch and I will make sure you never desire again."

Maker bless Neven for that boot knife. She'd managed draw it in their struggle, and positioned it to castrate him.

"Do it." He grimaced, and his hand moved upward under her shirt.

And then he flew off of her.

Quennel hit the opposite wall hard, impacting with a thud then collapsing into a heap. He stayed down.

Aldo stood in the doorway, arm still outstretched from casting the burst of telekinesis that had thrown Quennel. His blanched pudgy face relaxed some when he saw she was generally unharmed and had a weapon. He turned out the door. "Summon Commander Gerlach!" he yelled into the corridor.

"No!" Elinora protested, but it was too late. She heard running boots.

The mage looked at her in confusion. "He attacked you."

She looked away from the concern on Aldo's face. He had been kind to her since she'd set foot in the fortress and fetched her a blanket and bad tea. "I had the situation under control." Her shaking hands belied the statement.

"Did you?" Gerlach entered and surveyed the scene. "Aldo, report."

"I came in and found Quennel on top of Elinora. His knife was at her face. I think…" Aldo gulped, "I think he was going to rape her."

Elinora flinched, squeezing her eyes shut. This couldn't be happening, this had to be some demon's region of the Fade. This did not happen to Grey Wardens.

Something warm and liquid ran down her face. She brushed her fingers to her cheek, cursing her tears. Her fingers came away red. Not tears, blood from a shallow cut about and inch away from her right ear down her cheek.

"This," Gerlach began icily, "is why women do not belong here."

Elinora studied her bloody fingers then looked up at Gerlach, eyes narrowed in contempt. "So its my fault?"

"Blame is not the issue," he said dismissively. "This wouldn't have happened if you weren't here."

"Then I request to be relieved of maneuvers and sparring practice so as to speed up my research. The sooner that is done, the sooner I can leave."

"Trying to go soft, are you girl? Granted. Get to the infirmary and get that taken care of. Can't have anything else mar your delicate features."

Elinora turned on her heel and followed orders. She did not salute.

Denerim

Alistair awoke from his marriage bed in a cold sweat.

He'd been at their campsite in the Fade, but it was all wrong. The fire burned blue and icy, the tent was shredded and a cold wind howled.

There had been screams on that wind, and weeping. Howls of despair echoed into a cacophony of pain.

It was her.

He would have known her voice anywhere, even in states of distress he's only heard a very few times. She was so strong. What could make her hurt so?

"Elinora!" He called out her name until his voice was horse, but she didn't appear.

Now awake, Alistair slipped out of bed and got dressed quietly. He did not want to wake Anora. Once dressed he headed for his study.

He had sent a message to Weisshaupt months ago, when she had told him in the Fade that she was there, that horrible night when she had found out that he was sleeping with other women. No reply had been received. It would serve him right if she never spoke to him again, but he wasn't going to give up that easily. He had to know if she was alright.

He rang for a servant.

"Find Zevran."

Weisshaupt

The infirmary was empty, the healer most likely at breakfast.

No matter, she procured herself a small health poultice and put it to the cut. The tingling rush of healing was invigorating, making her aware of her body.

Her Maker-cursed female body.

Elinora threw aside the used up poultice and crossed her arms over her breasts. She pushed them flat, painfully, then got an idea. She hunted up a length of bandage. She would bind herself down, make her body less feminine. The quartermaster would probably have something less provocative for her to wear (not that she had ever considered a tunic and leggings provocative).

In the cupboard beside the bandages was a pair of shears. She pocketed the bandages and picked up the shears.

A bright fire burned in the surgery area, mirrors set beside it to reflect and increase the light. Elinora stepped up to a mirror and gave herself a good long look. Haunted bruised eyes stared back, dull chestnut hair framing her face in two thin braids. She took the tie from the right braid and tied it to the top of the left, just an inch or so from her scalp, securing the braid at both ends. One Remin-sized handful at a time, she snipped away her hair. Each lock went into the fire, except for the braid.

She'd done a poor job of it, in the end, her hair ending up uneven and sloppy. She didn't care. The scar from the archdemon stood out more now, red and angry.

Not so pretty anymore.

"Lady Cousland!" Aldo rushed into the infirmary, an expression of shocked sadness on his round face. "What have you done?"

"You will call me Warden El."


	8. Chapter 8 Reaction

**Duty's Journey – Chapter 8**

**Reaction**

Weisshaupt – a day later

"Warden El, Commander Rainer would like to see you."

She nodded to the young warden, Orbert, she thought his name was, who stood outside her door. Her old dagger, the Rose's Thorn, over her shoulder, she followed him through the cold corridors to the second-in-command's study.

He sat behind his desk, blonde hair pulled back in a warrior's tail and blue eyes focused on a mountain of reports. He looked up when they entered, his bluff features friendly but not cheerful. Rising, he pulled a parchment out of a stack of others.

"Orbert, thank you. You are dismissed." Rainer waited for the younger man to leave. "Aldo sent me a report about yesterday's… incident. He believes that Quennel was attempting to rape you. Did he misinterpret what was happening?"

Her blue-green eyes fixed angrily upon him, then she shook her head and looked away. "Aldo's timing was excellent, though I had the situation under control."

"Yes, he mentions that you were a heartbeat away from gelding Quennel. Pity you didn't." Rainer sighed.

"Commander?"

"There have been complaints." Rainer's mouth twisted as if he tasted something unpleasant. "So, what do you suppose we should do with him? By Grey Warden law you can demand his execution, or duel him, or…"

"Just keep him in the brig until I am gone. There aren't enough Wardens to go about executing them."

Rainer studied the coldly pragmatic young woman who stood in his office. She stood up straight, but she hugged herself and did not make eye contact. "You are not wrong, Warden El. Two hundred and twenty-three here. One hundred and nineteen in Orlais, ninety-one in the Imperium, seventy-six in Neverra and thirty-seven in Antiva." He heaved a heavy sigh, "Ferelden, one at present."

"That doesn't sound like many, Commander."

"It's not, especially compared to the old days. There used to be thousands of us, men and women."

She looked up at him finally. "Why aren't there more female Grey Wardens, Commander?"

"I don't know. I'm hoping you could tell me. All I know is that about a century and a half ago, we stopped recruiting women. You've been digging around in the archives, I was hoping something would be there to explain it."

"If I find it, I'll let you know."

Rainer smiled. "I would appreciate that. Two more things. First, I understand you arrived with a Marbari?"

"Yes, Commander. Finn's in the kennels."

"I want you to have him with you at all times."

"Commander, I…"

He raised a hand to stop her protests. "Just do it. Also, Gerlach received a message from King Alistair months ago. It's official nonsense, but this was with it." Rainer handed Elinora a folded parchment, its seal broken. It was addressed to her.

"Its been opened."

"Yes, and Gerlach has read it. I don't know who else. I only received it this morning."

She skimmed over it, the words meant just for her.

It was a love letter.

_My darling Elinora,_

_I miss you._

_Who would have thought that our little tent would have been the most wonderful place in the world? I think about it all the time. Just you and me, not even armor between us. I still remember how good it felt to touch you, kiss you, do other things the Chantry frowns upon, and make terrible jokes along the way._

_Ever since you went away, a piece of me has been missing. I got it back for those brief moments in the Fade, but now its gone again. Each night I fall asleep thinking about you, every morning I wake up thinking about you. The only thing that makes life bearable is that you promised to come back._

_Please come back, my love, as soon as you can._

_When you come back, I will not let you go. Nothing can come between us; not duty, not politics, not Darkspawn, not the Maker himself._

_When you come back, I shall be complete again._

_I understand that there are things we both must do. Let's get them done quickly, so we can forget all this time apart and live for our time together._

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

_Please come home._

_Alistair_

She closed it and tucked it into her belt. "That explains quite a lot. May I see the official one?"

Rainer passed it to her.

_High Commander,_

_I understand that Elinora Cousland, sister the Teryn of Highever, has reached you. She is the last Grey Warden of Ferelden, beside myself, which hardly counts anymore. She seeks to rebuild our Order, who will be most welcome here. I am granting the Wardens the Arling of Amranthine in perpetuity as a training ground and estate._

_Warden Elinora was the last of us to be recruited by Duncan, Commander of the Ferelden Grey Wardens. I have fought beside her through countless battles and deeply value her skills and friendship. Without her, the Darkspawn would have overrun our lands. She convinced me to accept the throne, thus preventing a civil war._

_Elinora Cousland is a hero and should be treated as such, though she is unlikely to expect it._

_I look forward to her return home,_

_Alistair Theirin, King of Ferelden_

She handed the official parchment back to him. "So that's why Aldo was calling me 'Lady Cousland'. Interesting."

Rainer raised an eyebrow, but said nothing on the topic. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Her eyes narrowed, but she said, "I wish to requisition some clothing and possibly some armor."

Rainer snatched a scrap of parchment and scribbled a note. "Done. Give that to the quartermaster," he said, passing it to her. "Anything else? Research assistants maybe?"

She gave him a hard look. "No, Commander. I work best alone."

Denerim

Zevran was not particularly comfortable boarding the Ferelden navy ship, but it was the fastest. Three days to Cumberland, instead of the usual five, provided the weather cooperated. Alistair wanted this done fast and was willing to pay the expense. Zevran hoped he knew how to hide it from Eamon.

Preoccupied, he almost missed the mass of qunari that stepped in front of him.

"Where are you going?" Sten rumbled.

Zevran sighed. "His majesty has requested that I go to Weisshaupt to check up on his beloved. Since I have nothing better to do and a pile of bills at The Pearl, I decided to take him up on it."

Sten nodded. "I shall go with you."

"No offense, my good warrior, but you shall slow me down. I can travel very quickly when I wish."

"As can I."

"Really?" Zevran looked in askance at the heavy plate that Sten wore. "I can make fifteen leagues in a day, should conditions be favorable."

Unimpressed, Sten grunted. "I can make eighteen."

Zevran shrugged. "Come along then, before that dwarf shows up and we become some sort of traveling entertainment."


	9. Chapter 9 Reunion

A/N - Whoa, epic chapter is epic. And the location cuts will make you dizzy. Enjoy, and thank you for the reviews!

**Duty's Journey Chapter 9**

**Reunion**

Weisshaupt – Three weeks later

"El?"

Elinora looked up from the journal she was reading, a bit grateful for the break. High Commander Lothair, dead for at least two centuries, was very found of detail, thousands of very boring details. "Yes Orbert?"

"There's an elf and a qunari here to see you." Orbert's curiosity was killing him, she could tell. She'd bet her boot knife he had never seen a qunari before.

Wait.

"An elf and a qunari?"

"Yes, Warden. Said they knew you from the Blight…"

Elinora was out of her seat before he could finish. She bolted through the corridors until she reached the Great Hall and saw the most welcome sight she had seen in months.

Zevran leaned casually against a table, chatting with Archard. Sten stood guard behind him, assessing the room.

"… and she says 'You tried to kill me,' all dark and cold, still gives me the shivers to think on it. And I said something like 'Unsuccessfully! You can't take these things personally!' And then she threatened me again…"

"Not so, Zevran." Elinora hated it when she was misquoted. "I asked if you thought I was royally stupid."

"Ah yes, and I responded that you were royally hard to kill." He threw his arms around her in a fierce hug, and kissed her cheek.

"Don't," she whispered and stepped back.

He gave her a probing look. "My dear Elinora, you look awful." Sten turned around at that comment as Zevran evaluated. Her skin was dull, dark circles were under her eyes and she'd chopped off her hair into a short crop he only saw on small boys and old warriors. And her clothes! She wore a long vest that started under her chin and ended at her knees. It was at least two sizes too big for her. Underneath was a drab shirt and he could only presume leggings, as the vest covered most of what here boots did not. She wore a belt around her waist, which hinted that she had gained some weight. And she was very well armed; two visible blades and a hidden boot knife.

Something was wrong. And he was absolutely sure she wouldn't tell him anything about it.

He did love a challenge.

Denerim

"Alistair?"

It took him a moment to respond to his own name, he was so used to the constant 'your majesty' from everyone. He looked up to find Wynne in his study and rose quickly to greet her.

"Its wonderful to see you, almost-grandmother!" He kissed her cheek and wished she didn't have that look on her face. The look that meant there was something wrong. Why was something always wrong?

"Alistair, I have some… concerns. If we may talk privately?"

Alistair nodded to the guard and servant that attended him. They departed and closed the door behind them. "Well?"

"I know this may sound strange, but Anora won't let me anywhere near her."

"Well, she does have her own healer, I suppose…"

"Its not just that," Wynne barreled on. "She avoids me. At this point I'm certain it's on purpose."

Alistair sat back in his chair, a troubled look clouding his face. "Why would she do that? I mean, you're one of the best healers in Ferelden. She should be glad of another pair of mage eyes looking after her."

"But she is most defiantly not."

"Well then," he tapped a pondering finger on his desk, longing for a simple fight. He was going to have to be clever on this one. "Come to dinner tonight, late and unexpected so she can't claim morning sickness, which doesn't seem to have much to do with the morning. It should be wonderfully awkward, but what family dinner isn't, eh? At least that's what they tell me."

Weisshaupt

Discovering the source of Elinora's changes was disappointingly easy. Undoing them would be much harder.

A corpulent mage named Aldo caught Zevran as he was lounging in the Great Hall, Sten and El, as she now insisted on being called, took Finn out for exercise. Sten had always been fond of the Marbari.

Aldo watched the door close behind them before approaching Zevran. "She's not the same woman you knew, is she?"

Zevran considered, then shook his head. "Even in the darkest times, she was warm and could laugh. And took no interest in her appearance. It seems she now trying to make herself ugly on purpose." He looked at the cringing mage. "What happened?"

Denerim

The little dining hall was silent but for the clinking of silverware on plates. Alistair still found it amusing that the servants liked to bring out the best china even with the more meager fare. Spring planting was going well, though. Soon they would eat properly again.

Anora sat at the opposite end of the table, eating steadily. She had not attempted conversation, but then again, neither had he, as usual.

"Excuse me, you majesty?" began his head server, Denis, who was completely aware of the plan. It wouldn't do to fluster the staff, just his dear wife.

"Yes?"

"Mage Wynne is here. Would you care to see her now, or later?"

"Oh bring her in and set her a place!" Alistair grinned broadly.

Wynne did not wait for another word before entering the hall. Denis pulled out a chair for her halfway down the table and efficiently fetched a place setting for her.

Anora sat stunned for half a minute, before putting on her finest queenly mask. "Mage Wynne," she started, "how pleasant to see you."

"And you as well, your highness." Wynne's smile and nod were just a little sly. Anora had been granted the title of 'Princess Consort' not 'Queen.' It must rankled, Wynne thought. And with that, she sent out the tiny tendril of magic that would tell what she needed to know. In the meantime, she would enjoy the best meal she had seen in ages.

"So, what brings you here, my almost-grandma?" Alistair asked conversationally.

Wynne smiled placidly at him and nodded her thanks to Denis as he set a plate in front of her. "It has been some time since we've had a meal together, my boy, since before you married. I felt I've been remiss in my almost-grandma duties." Anora not-too subtily rolled her eyes.

Dinner continued with bright small talk, some stories of the Blight here and there. Wynne mentioned Elinora as much as possible. She enjoyed watching the small signs of Anora's discomfort.

By the small dessert of honey cake, Wynne knew what was at the root of Anora's discomfort, and it had nothing to do with her competition.

Weisshaupt

Zevran had never known rage like this. Awful things had happened to those he knew, he'd done awful things in his life, but this just maddened him. It was personal, deeply personal. She had come here seeking help from her brethren who had proved to be no better than common thugs. She'd ripped her heart out for duty's sake and this was the reward she got.

He would kill the one responsible, whether she wished it or not.

But not yet. Now he would drag her, kicking and screaming if need be, out of this self-loathing.

Of course, first he had to make things worse.

And thus Zevran sat on her bed in her tiny room and waited. Assassins were patient.

The door opened eventually, admitting Elinora and Finn, ever at her side. "What are you doing on my bed?" she asked coldly.

"Dreaming of that which might have been." She did not smile, if anything her eyes darkened. "There is nowhere else to sit in this cell, and I have been running for near a month to get here quickly. You will forgive me if I wish to cool my heels."

She sat besides him heavily. "Fine. So what are you doing here?"

"As I said, Alistair wanted me to check up on you. He seemed to believe that something was wrong, and he was correct, I see."

She dismissed it. "There's nothing wrong. The High Commander hates me and I'm trying to cram everything a Warden Commander needs to know into my skull without benefit of training or time."

"That sounds like something to me." Time to cut out the heart of this matter. "And then there is this Quennel…"

She grimaced and turned away from him. "Aldo told you, did he?' She sighed. "I remind him of his sister, apparently."

"This Aldo seems a good man."

"He is."

"Do not let the bad men spoil the good ones, eh?" That seemed as good a segue as any and he wanted to get it over with. "Speaking of which, I have news. But I do not believe you will like it."

"Alistair married, didn't he." She studied her door.

"How did you know?"

She shrugged. "I guessed. Who?"

"Anora."

Elinora threw her head back with a heavy sigh and an eye roll. "Of all the things he had to listen to me on, he chooses that one."

"Yes. Stupid man." He watched her carefully, waiting for the fracture in that hard shell she was hiding in. "She has already begat a royal heir."

Elinora took a deep breath, inhale and exhale. Zevran couldn't help but notice that her bosom should have heaved, but it was distinctly absent. Zevran hesitated, then asked, "What happened to your bosom?"

Her face swung around to him. "Excuse me?"

"You once had a very fine bosom. It was the first thing I noticed about you, in fact." His eyebrows wiggled just a bit. "Granted, I was aiming for it at the time."

A snort of laughter bubbled out of her, followed by a chortle and then a real laugh that lasted almost a full minute. She flopped back on her bed. "I bound myself down." She giggled again. "They get in the way, you know."

"And we appreciators of female beauty are grateful for your sacrifice." He swept a seated bow. "It is good to hear you laugh."

"Its good to laugh."

"This place is no good for laughter. You should go home."

"Can't yet." She covered her face with her hands. "Too much work to do."

"The work can wait."

"No it can't." She stared up at the ceiling. "Besides, he needs to be a husband and father, and that will be easier if I'm not there."

"Perhaps," Zevran playfully tugged her sleeve, "but what about you?"

She looked back to him. "I need to be a Grey Warden."

"I see." Zevran took her hand and kissed it, light and quick. "But for tonight I insist you simply be you, and we will talk of nothing but pleasant things. As always, I am here in whatever capacity you desire me. Whatever capacity."

Some things never changed.

Denerim

Alistair slammed the door behind him, putting all of his anger into it. Anora sat bolt upright in bed, pulled out of a sound sleep by the bang.

"You cheated."

"Excuse me, husband?" Anora demurred.

"That child you carry isn't mine," he growled.

Anora gasped a little. "How could you possibly…"

"Wynne."

She dropped any attempt at innocence. "That's not an exact science, especially at this stage of the pregnancy."

"She seemed certain."

Anora met his eyes. "Doesn't matter, it won't hold up in court."

"What?"

"Information procured by magic is not admissible in a court of law. You can't divorce me on the word of one mage." She smiled coldly. "And I have my own healer who will swear that the child is yours."

"Are you so desperate to get the throne that you do… this? No wait, I don't want to know."

And with that, he left her bedchamber, slamming the door again.

Weisshaupt

Elinora woke to the watch-change gong, as usual, but not alone. Zevran was stretched in bed besides her, still asleep, his arm draped over her waist.

A wave of guilt washed over her, until she realized that she was fully dressed, as was he. They had fallen asleep talking, that was all.

And she had to admit that it was the best sleep she had gotten in months.


	10. Chapter 10 Plans

**Duty's Journey – Chapter 10**

**Plans**

Weisshaupt– One week later

Elinora's stomach rumbled. She, Finn and Sten had gone on a long jog around the fortress, but it had taken longer than her usual morning routine. Now her body was loudly demanding breakfast.

They headed for the Great Hall and found a crowd of Wardens, Aldo and Rainer among them entranced by Zevran.

"… underneath the archdemon's head, stabbing him in the soft flesh under his jaw and dragged her sword down its neck. The beast collapsed, but she swung herself on its neck, and…"

"Zev!"

He broke off his tale at her cry, but she shouldn't be so humble about these things, he thought. "What? I am simply telling them how you slew the archdemon…"

A massive collective gasp came from the Wardens, followed by a cacophony of questions. Elinora slapped her hand over her eyes.

Zevran was utterly perplexed by this reaction. "Did I say something wrong?"

Denerim

Alistair had a plan.

He wasn't about to keep that little serpent anywhere near him. Anora was dangerous and the sight of her made him sick. He had a feeling that he only had the term of pregnancy before she would try to kill him, putting the child on the throne and naming herself Regent. If her baby was healthy, he was as good as dead.

But he could not harm the child. He wouldn't, nor the mother who carried him. If she behaved then he's never lay a finger on her.

A few consultations with Eamon and Wynne, and a hostile take over later, it was time to put his plan to work. He waited until they were halfway through breakfast.

"My dear," he started. She bristled at the endearment. "I'm afraid the city can't be good for your condition. I think you will have to retire to the country until the child is born. You will leave this afternoon."

"What?" Anora dropped her fork.

He put on his best sympathetic look, pushing away the smirk that was trying to take over his face. "I know you will hate to be parted from me, but the air is cleaner and the food will be much better, fresh from the fields and all."

Anora worked on how to protest. "I do not wish…"

"I don't care what you wish." Alistair smiled ruefully. "Kings and queens do not always get what they wish, and don't I know it. But on this occasion, I will get what I wish, and that is a healthy mother and child."

Anora's mouth twisted as she considered. Alistair noticed for the first time that she looked tired. Pregancy, it appeared, did not agree with her. "So where is it you are exiling me to?"

"The Arl of Denerim's country estate, well, former estate. Vaughn owed quite the pile of back taxes."

"So you seized the estate as payment. Clever."

He nodded with a proud grin. "Only half a day away, but so much better than this manky city." He took a mouthful of bacon. "I'm also going to be using it as a training ground for palace guards and the like, so you will be well protected."

She raised an eyebrow. "Excessively well." She took a bite of her oatmeal, horrid stuff that it was. "So, husband, do you think you have thought of everything?"

Alistair shrugged nonchalantly. If she was trying to make him doubt his plans, it wouldn't work. "Probably not, but I think we've good start."

Weisshaupt

"How is it that you are still alive?" Gerlach demanded. "Or is this just some lie to make yourself a hero?"

Rainer frowned at his commander, but said nothing. Elinora evenly explained, "It was a ritual preformed by an apostate mage. She conceived a child with Alistair and the archdemon passed from the dragon to it. I do not know anymore detail than that."

Zevran blinked with incredulity at Elinora. "Morrigan?" She flinched and nodded.

"So," Aldo rolled the theory around in his head, "the demon was destroyed by the child's soul. Did the child die, or more accurately, did this Morrigan miscarry?"

Elinora shook her head and looked to Zevran for confirmation, who also shook his head. "I don't know. She was gone when I woke up. According to her, the child would be fine and born with the soul of an old god."

Aldo calculated, his head bobbing up and down, right and left as he worked it out. "It could work. I would love to know if it did."

Gerlach growled, "This witch and her get should be found and brought here. We shall decide what to do with them then. Aldo, you and your mages find ways to contain them and, if necessary, destroy them."

Zevran couldn't help it. He didn't like the High Commander and enjoyed ruffling him. "You have to find them first."

"I have Wardens all across Thedas at my command."

Zevran sniffed at the thought. "You send a Marbari to do a ferret's work."

Rainer gave Zevran a thoughtful look. Gerlach gave him a disgusted one. "Enough from you, assassin."

Elinora kept her eyes on Gerlach. "Anything else, High Commander?"

"No, dismissed."

They all left the High Commander's study.

Denerim

Alistair and Eamon watched the carriage leave the gates. Alistair had a bright smile on his face, Eamon was thoughtful.

"So, now what, your majesty?"

Alistair shrugged at Eamon. "She'll have the child, should everything go well. And then we'll try for the spare."

"You will?"

"I'm not letting her get away with this, not without trying for a completely legitimate heir."

Eamon studied Alistair. "Interesting. And if she doesn't conceive?"

"Then this child will inherit the throne, and next to no one will know about it's parentage."

"You seem to have this all worked out." Eamon took a moment of pride. Alistair was starting to think like a king.

Alistair turned to reenter the palace and get back to work. "I have a scenario worked out."

"What if Elinora returns?"

Alistair stopped and stared at his Chancellor. "Then we will work out another scenario. And have a parade." Alistair turned again and entered the palace.

Weisshaupt

"Thank you for seeing me, Zevran. I know this may not be your style."

Zevran looked Commander Rainer over with a sly smile. "You piqued my curiosity. What, I asked myself, could the very handsome second-in-command of the Grey Wardens possibly want to meet with me in secret about?"

Rainer's mouth opened and closed a moment, and then he laughed, a deep guffaw. "I'm sorry to disappoint, but this is purely a business meeting. Please, have a seat."

Zevran sat. "To business then."

"I understand that you used to be a Crow."

"Yes. Who do you wish dead?" Rainer looked momentarily surprised. "No one starts a conversation like that with out wanting someone dead."

"Actually, I want you to find someone, which assassins are good at too."

"Morrigan?"

"Obviously."

Zevran nodded. "Are you sure there isn't someone you disposed of?"

Rainer raised an eyebrow. "Did you have someone in mind?"


	11. Chapter 11 Strength

A/N – Two major issues:

1 – Updates might slow down a bit. RL is demanding attention and I'm catching up to myself. I'd rather give you good yet slightly delayed chapters than rush crap ones.

2 – I'm starting to reference myself again. This chapter makes allusions to The Fever, One Night in Lothering and The Lotus. While not reading them will probably not destroy the experience, I think checking them out might enhance it a bit. The Lotus is still my personal favorite of everything I've written.

Enjoy! And a big thank you to everyone who's reviewed, alerted and favorited!

**Duty's Journey – Chapter 11**

**Strength**

The Fade – close to morning

Alistair sat by their fire, wishing, praying.

_Andraste, please… let her come to me…_

"Alistair?"

_Thank you…_

He stood and took in the most beautiful sight he had seen possibly ever. Flowing chestnut hair, blue-green eyes that glowed and she was biting her lip, just like she had at The Lotus that day that he had given her that rose. The rose she held tenderly in her hand.

"I wasn't sure you'd ever come back," he whispered.

Elinora smiled shyly. "I wasn't sure either."

He rushed her, he wouldn't waste another second, even with if he could only half feel her. He covered her in kisses, arms wrapped tight around her firm body.

"What made you come back?" he murmured into her ear.

"A certain king sent a certain assassin to check-up on me. I thought I would give the report in person, sort of." She stepped away from him, spread her arms and smiled, just a little too hard. "I'm fine. See?"

The Fade flickered for a heartbeat. She changed before him, from the beautiful woman he'd known and loved since her Joining, to someone else. Dragonscale armor gave way to a long, loose vest; her hair was short cropped and there were deep shadows under her eyes. But then it stabilized, back to her normal, beautiful self.

Alistair watched her anxiously. "Ah, you see, I sent Zevran when I came here and found it… wrong. And I heard you crying on the wind."

"Don't be silly, Alistair. I don't cry." Her tough mask fell over her face.

"Yes, you do. You cried during the fever after the Joining, for your parents. And I know you cried a few times when we… parted. You're good with a tough face, but not that good."

With and exasperated sigh, she crossed her arms. "So, I'm a weak little girl, is that it?"

"Andraste's holy knickers, no!" He gathered her back into his arms, unable to bear the wall she was trying to build. "No, you are the strongest woman I have ever known, maybe the strongest person. Much stronger than me. You were the one brave enough to lead us. You were the one who could do what must be done." He put his forehead to hers. "The rest of us just tried to live up to your example."

A soft blush graced her cheeks, he could feel the warmth rising off of them. "You're being ridiculous," she murmured.

"That's what I do." His mouth found her in a kiss that was more of a caress, the softness comforting.

Her lips left his as she rested her head against his chest. "When's the baby due?"

Alistair sighed, unhappy to be reminded of what waited in the real word. "Five months."

A tentative smile tugged at corners of her mouth. "Maybe I'll come home in six."

With a whoop of joy he picked her up and spun her around, coming to a stop when he realize his arms were empty. She had vanished again. She had to stop doing that.

At least, he thought, now he had hope she would reappear.

Weisshaupt

Banging on her door drug Elinora out of the Fade. Finn was whimpering.

Drawing her sword, she answered the door. Orbert was on the other side, still hammering in it in a panic. "What's happened?"

"Warden El, the High Commander wants to see you right now. Quennel is dead."

Elinora stood stunned for a moment. "Let me get dressed." She closed the door before Orbert could respond.

Quennel.

Dead.

Zevran.

She dressed quickly, and almost missed the note tucked under her washbasin, right next to Alistair's rose.

_I was never one for good-byes, but I left you a present. – Zevran_

Only a Crow would consider a corpse a present.

Rose and note in hand, she went to her footlocker. The note she stuffed away into the bottom, but the lyrium- preserved rose she held a moment longer. She brushed the velvet petals against her lips and inhaled the sweet aroma that still clung to it, even after two years.

It had been calling to her since Zevran and Sten arrived, calling her to the Fade. Zevran had insisted on sleeping in her room during his stay, claiming it was safer. Truth be told, his company had been comforting, though purely as a friend, though he still flirted, just like he always did.

But tonight he claimed business elsewhere, and Elinora did not pry. Sometimes it was best not to ask, and she wanted the time alone.

The rose had waited, wrapped in a ragged handkerchief since she had smashed its box in her fury months ago. Alistair hadn't deserved her anger, he was only doing what she told him to do, but giving orders and carrying them out were two very different things. Of course he had found other women, potential mothers for his children, something she could never be.

It still hurt, deeply, and speaking to him this morning, months later, still stung.

The morning after their fight, she gathered up the pieces of the broken box and the still flawless rose and tossed them into her footlocker. Still seething with rage, she vowed to burn them at the first opportunity should could find. She had never gone looking for it.

Tucking the rose away with Alistair's love letter, she snapped the trunk closed and headed for the door.

"Come on, Finn. Time to be judged by the Maker."

The Hunterhorn Mountains – later that day

To be a pallbearer for a fallen comrade was supposed to be an honor, not a punishment nor an act of closure. But here they were; she, Aldo, Orbert, and Rainer, hauling Quennel's body up the rocky path and down into the small caldera where the Wardens of Weisshaupt had burned their dead for centuries. Archard trailed them with the ceremonial torch, Finn at his heels. Sten brought up the rear.

Elinora knew why Aldo was here; he was sharing her castigation, but she didn't know what Rainer and Orbert had done to earn this assignment. Orbert, being very low in sonority, might have just been ordered. Rainer was a different matter. He was their second in command, and rumor had it he was favored for promotion. Maybe this was just part of his duties, Elinora couldn't say.

And Archard had it the hardest of all. By tradition, the eldest Warden set the funeral pyres ablaze, reminding them that their turn was coming soon.

The funeral rite was spoken quickly and without feeling, but it was spoken. They stood and watched as Quennel's corpse was eaten away by the flames. Elinora would admit to no one that she felt relieved.

"Why do we do this?" Sten asked her as the pyre burned.

"Because he was a Grey Warden, whatever else he was," she replied, watching the flames.

"Hrm." Sten moved away, focusing inward on his own thoughts.

Rainer stood beside her later, watching as they all were. "I want you to resume training tomorrow."

Her expression remained flat. "Yes, Commander."

"We go to the Crag soon, and want you prepared."

"The Crag?"

"A section of the Deep Roads were we hold the Joining and bid farewell to our elders." Rainer's gaze drifted to Archard, easily the oldest Warden Elinora had ever known, and Sten.

"Sten?"

"I think he would make a fine Warden. He's already taught a few quanari techniques to us."

She turned her eyes to Sten, standing stoically beside the pyre.

A fine Warden, indeed.


	12. Chapter 12 Joining

A/N: I would like to thank everyone who has posted dialogues and cut scenes on the YouTubes and various wikis. They come in handy.

**Duty's Journey – Chapter 12**

**Joining**

Denerim – One month later, almost one year since the coronation of King Alistair

Alistair was having a very restless night, why he couldn't say. Things were going fine; Anora was out of his way and doing well, Ferelden was recovering nicely from the Blight and the famine that followed, and there didn't seem to be anyone trying to politically destroy him. At the moment.

But something was keeping him awake, like an itch between the shoulder blades.

"Good evening, your majesty."

Alistair bolted up, dagger he kept under the other pillow in his hand. He hated being paranoid, and hated it even more when it was justified.

Zevran leaned casually against the open window.

Alistair caught his breath, but did not put down the dagger, just in case. "We really do need some better security. So, have you seen her?"

Zevran nodded, fixing his penetrating eyes on Alistair. "You do not deserve her."

"What?"

"Not only did you let her go for foolish reasons, but you rutted with Morrigan on some flimsy excuse. But still she loves you. She could have any man she wanted, but she wants you." Zevran snorted as Alistair squirmed between pain and protest. "Now I am not sure who is the more stupid. You for doing this to her, or she for letting you."

"Now that's…" Alistair's shoulders slumped. His expression became that of a kicked puppy. "…completely true. I don't deserve her, but I want her back everyday. Is she alright?" Even though he had seen her in the Fade, had her reassurances, something hadn't sat right.

"No, she is not." Zevran frowned. "She is in a cold fortress filled with men who stare at her like she is some sort of freak. She has been attacked once already."

"Attacked!" Alistair got out of bed, ready to fight, not that he had any idea who to fight.

Zevran waved him down. "She defended herself well and her attacker will no longer be a problem, I assure you." Zevran's smile was wicked and dark, but faded quickly. Revenge has such short-lived pleasures. "Her injuries are all to her spirit, though she's chopped off her hair and lost all sense of style. Leliana would be appalled. I left Sten there. He will watch over her."

Alistair thought back to that last meeting in the Fade, where she had said she was fine. There was that momentary flash; short hair and frumpy clothes. He should have known. He sat back down on his bed heavily, knowing there was nothing he could do. "Thank you for your assistance, Zevran. I took care of the bills from the Pearl, by the way."

"Then I am well paid, your majesty."

"What are you going to do now? Going to go run up more, eh?"

Zevran put a boot to the windowsill and looked back at his former comrade. "No, I have been contracted for another mission. Good night."

And he was gone before Alistair could get out another word.

It was better not to know the business of assassins.

The Crag

Elinora dodged an axe swing aimed at her head. That one had been far too close. She'd only slacked off for about a month, but it had done some damage to her skills. But some things one never forgot, like the stench of Darkspawn blood and the thrill pumping through her veins.

It was good to get out and fight again. Really fight.

Sten and Finn seemed to be enjoying it as well. The two new recruits, a mage and a scrapper, were having a slightly harder time, but still holding their own.

One more vial to go.

The Crag was well named. It was once a dwarven thaig, but had been long abandoned, and for good reason. It had broken in half.

At some point a great upheaval had rent the place right down the middle. Darkspawn had poured out of the crevice and massacred the dwarves. The Wardens had come, too late, and set up a permanent base. They could watch and control the Darkspawn and perform Warden rituals without the interference of outsiders.

Including the Joining.

Battle done, it was time.

Elinora willed her hands to be steady as she poured each vial into the chalice, much like the one she had drunk from at Ostagar. She was playing Alistair's role now, to Rainer's Duncan. Could Alistair have felt this awful? Was he this worried about messing this up?

At least at Ostagar they had a bit of privacy. In the Crag, the initiates and the Wardens stood in something like a pit, other Wardens above them, their mages casting a shield to keep them in. It was like they were being tested, and, truth be told, they were.

She looked at the recruits, memorizing their names and faces. Sten she knew; stoic to the last, even though he probably had a very good idea what was going on. Elinora and Alistair had spent many nights by the campfire, talking about their lives as Grey Wardens. Who knows how much of those discussions he heard or remembered? The next was a mage named Tretan, human, Orlesian and snobby. He had protested the amount of blood that got on his robes. Last was a young elf, Atlantes, a runaway Treventer slave. He was twitchy and frightened. She hated to admit it, but if she were the gambling sort, she would bet against his survival.

Rainer began the ceremony. "The ritual of Joining is as old as the Grey Wardens themselves. During the first Blight, a few brave men and women drank of Darkspawn blood, taking on their taint, and mastering it."

"What?" Tretan gasped. "That is Blood Magic!"

Elinora shot him a quelling look. "It is our magic. It is the source of our power."

Rainer studied the protesting mage. "If you survive, you will be able to sense Darkspawn, and be immune to their influence."

"But not weapons." Atlantes added, half question, half statement of fact. Elinora shook her head and traced a finger down the scar from the archdemon. Atlantes studied her closely.

Rainer nodded, and Elinora lifted the chalice in toast to every Warden that came before her, that served beside her, and that would come later.

"Join us brothers," her voice echoed through the caverns. "Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day we shall join you."

She held out the cup before her to see who would be the first to take it.

Unsurprisingly, Sten did.

He drank deep and pushed the cup back into her waiting hands. His eyes opened white and he bellowed a war cry that shook the caverns to their very core. He staggered to the wall, seething as he fought the taint within him. And then it passed. He took deep breaths and his face was flushed with fever, but he was still standing.

Which was more than Elinora could say about her Joining. She had passed out.

Atlantes took up the chalice next without hesitation. He drank, handed it back, and screamed. Like Sten, like all of them, his eyes shone white. He clutched his head and fell to his knees, keening and wailing, and then stopped. He collapsed to the ground, face down.

Elinora bowed her head; another lost. But her duties were not done. She lifted the cup and stepped toward Tretan. He stepped back. "I am no Blood Mage, girl. I will not be a party to this."

"I am sorry to hear that," Rainer whispered as he drew his sword. Tretan saw him coming and released an icy cone that froze the Commander where he was. The mage rounded on Elinora, to receive her dagger in his heart.

With his heart's blood spattered across her face, she breathed, "There is no going back."

A stunned silence filled the cavern, broken by the shatter of ice as Rainer freed himself.

And then Atlantes coughed and rolled over on his back, eyes still staring, but back to normal and burning with fever.

"It is done." Rainer's simple statement echoed.

They left the Joining Circle and retired to chambers closer to the surface. Sten carried Atlantes to the infirmary and remained to see to their fevers. Elinora watched them go proudly, then allowed Rainer to guide her to dinner.


	13. Chapter 13 Celebrations

**Duty's Journey Chapter 13**

**Celebrations**

The Crag – one day later

As was Crag tradition, the night before departure and after a successful Joining there was a feast. Between two difficult journeys, a moment of pleasure. In song and story, Alistair had told her about the comradely he felt among the other Ferelden Wardens, something she had missed out on. Tonight sought to make up for lost time.

Things were different in the Crag. Death waited just a few hundred feet below them. And the company was a bit more select. From Weisshaupt there were a party of twenty Wardens, plus the fifteen on their rotation in the Crag. Even with the High Commander in attendance, no one was playing politics tonight.

Elinora had never seen Gerlach cheerful. He laughed as they exchanged stories, and ate and drank like it was his last meal, which it was. He sat down next to Elinora as she was telling Aldo and some others a second-hand story about life among the Templars. A slightly drunk Gerlach clapped her on the back and pushed her shoulder around to face him.

"You've done good, girl. Especially the Joining yesterday, didn't flinch a moment. Pity you let yourself get a bit soft, but that'll get taken care of with some exercise. You found what you're looking for?"

Elinora tried to puzzle out if the High Commander was actually complimenting her or not. "No, Commander, not yet."

"Well, keep looking. I'm sure its there somewhere. But you're too good a soldier to let that rot. More fighting, less reading, that's what I say!"

"You most certainly do," muttered Aldo

Gerlach guffawed and punched Aldo in the shoulder as a gong sounded. Everyone's merriment faded. Rainer looked at Gerlach. "High Commander, its time."

He nodded. "That it is, my boy."

Gerlach marched from their table to the front of the room amid the cheers of the Wardens. He waved them into calm and then spoke.

"My fellow Grey Wardens, comrades and friends, tonight we come to an end, as must be before a new beginning. Tomorrow morning, Archard and I will submit to the Calling and head down into the Deep Roads. We have served long, with distinction and honor, and now it is time to be done. Maker take us to his bosom, but not until we've emptied the world of a few more Darkspawn!"

The room erupted in cheering.

"Now, the important part, which I am sad to say will surprise no one. I name as my successor Rainer, now High Commander of all the Grey Wardens!"

The hall, again, exploded in huzzahs. Rainer was popular. He rose and approached Gerlach. Solemn words were said and items passed on, which Elinora missed as Archard sat down next to her, two very small glasses of something brown in hand.

Handing her a glass he said, "To the little girl I pulled out of the snow. Duncan sure knew how to pick 'em." They clinked glasses and shot back the liquor. The stuff burned her throat, but she did not flinch. She'd show Archard who was a little girl. As she set down her glass, she saw a glint of pride in his eyes to match the lopsided grin.

More cheers brought their attention back to the front of the room. Solemnity done with, more ale was poured and the toasts began. Elinora counted about twenty to the old and the new High Commander.

And everyone not on duty was good and drunk.

Elinora had the good sense to slow down at about the fifth toast. There was something she had to attend to later, and it wouldn't do to pass out. No, passing out was defiantly a bad idea. She pushed away the dark memory and did her best to look like she was drinking heavily.

Rainer, on the other hand, had no such restrictions and not only had to drink the toasts with the whole party, but a good many individual toasts as well. He staggered over to her, put a leaden hand on her shoulder and one on the table to steady himself.

"So," he slurred, "you wanna be a Commander too, huh?"

"Of the Wardens in Ferelden, yes."

"Well, I need to see more leadership from you, my little minx, before that. Today was good, especially during the Joining, but we need more." Someone took that as a demand for more ale and filled his tankard.

Elinora raised an eyebrow. "Minx?"

Rainer drunkenly giggled. "You fight like one," his face swung close to hers, "and you're so pretty…"

A hand landed on Rainer's shoulder. Aldo pulled him away and steered him toward the dormitories. "That's enough for you, High Commander. Marching back to Weisshaupt with a hangover is a bad idea."

"Aldo," Rainer rambled, "don't you think she's pretty?"

Aldo sighed, "Yes, she reminds me of my sister, now why don't we…"

"Sister? Huh. You going to be all brotherly and hustle away the man talking to your sister?"

Aldo continued to try to get Rainer to move along, but Rainer was very strong, especially when drunk and he had dug his heels in. "Rainer, I'd be more worried about King Alistair sending his army to defend her honor."

Elinora hid her face in her hand. Had everyone read that stupid love letter?

"Alistair? King? What?" Rainer turned to Elinora, almost falling over himself in the process. "High Commander's not good enough for you?" He took a drunken step toward her, but three Wardens intercepted him and guided him away, his slurred words getting lost in their jovial commentary.

Elinora picked up her tankard, "And with that gentlemen," she drank the last of the ale down, "good night." She left the drinking hall.

Sometime close to dawn, sober now, Rainer found her again.

Elinora had taken it upon herself to see that Tretan was properly cremated.

She stood like she had a month ago back at Weisshaupt, calmly watching the pyre burn. Seemly emotionless, still as a rock. Her Marbari sat beside her, as patient as his mistress.

He'd made a royal ass of himself last night, and only by Andraste's grace and the blessing of ale, few may remember it. They had all been drunk, but he was fairly certain that she had not been drunk enough. He watched her a moment, gathering his courage to speak to her.

"Good morning, High Commander," she said softly. "How's the head?"

Caught, he stepped next to her and watched the fire. "About to explode. You?"

She pinned him with a sidelong glance. "Just fine."

He made some non-committal noise. She would, indeed, remember everything. "You don't have to do this. There are men on watch. They can handle it."

"I feel like I should. I was leading the ceremony."

"He was just a recruit, one that couldn't stomach it."

Her mouth twisted, but she said nothing.

"So," Rainer, High Commander of all the Wardens in Thedas, started casually, "about last night…"

"You were drunk, and your behavior was only mildly ungentlemanly." She shrugged. "I've seen worse."

"Did I say anything deeply stupid?"

"You questioned my standards and called me a minx."

"Minx?"

"Never again…" she said lowly.

"Right, right, of course." He fiddled with his gauntlet a moment. "I seem to remember declaring war on Ferelden."

"You did no such thing. Aldo warned you that Alistair might come defend my honor and bring his army with him."

Rainer snorted. "Like your honor needs defending." He realized the utter stupidity of what he had just said even as she shot him a look that redoubled his embarrassment. "I mean, you defend your own honor just fine. You don't need some man doing it for you."

"Right." Her eyes went back to the fire.

"Alistair, then. King of Ferelden, eh?"

"Yes."

An awkward silence stretched until he summoned his courage. "You two were lovers?"

Her face fell in resigned frustration. "Would be still if it weren't for our duties. Maybe we will be again." Her expression became distant.

Rainer thought about it, and decided to take the opportunity. "Are you so devoted to him?" She said nothing. It was pushy and prying, but right now he was going to take his chances. "Word has it that he enjoyed the company of…"

"I know," she injected abruptly. "I know, you don't have to remind me that he hasn't been devoted to me… at all really."

"So…"

"So maybe it's just easier this way." She turned to face him, the fire adding extra glow to those entrancing blue-green eyes. "No other romantic entanglements," she continued. "My heart belongs to another, that's my line, right? Simple as that."

"Simple." Rainer sighed. "If only it was. We hide most of our emotions behind duty. We try to forget about love and… all that goes with it."

"Until it sneaks up behind you in the exercise room."

"Is that what this is about?"

"No. Yes. Maybe." She shrugged, trying to get rid of the unpleasantness crawling up her spine. "Maybe that's why there are no women in the Grey Wardens."

"You're still looking?"

"I'm getting close to when the Wardens became a boys only club."

He smiled. "Don't forget training. If you want to be the next Commander of Ferelden, you're going to have to start leading maneuvers."

She nodded, a small smile on her lips. "Yes, High Commander."


	14. Chapter 14 Birth

A/N: A few things about this chapter, specifically the journal:

1 – Outside of the Ages, I made up the calendaring system. Each season has three months measured between full moons and counted by days. Simple and to the point.

2 – It's a very limited perspective. That is intentional.

**Duty's Journey Chapter 14**

**Birth**

Denerim – three months later

Alistair had never been more nervous. He'd faced hordes of Darkspawn and a Landsmeet full of hostile nobles, but never felt anything like this.

Anora had gone into labor that morning, almost a month early by Alistair's count. She was still at Tranquility House just outside of Denerim, surrounded by an army of Healers, midwives and nurses. She had the best care Ferelden could offer, but Alistair was still terrified. And useless.

He paced the dining room of Tranquility House. He'd left the palace at breakneck speed only to arrive and be informed that she hadn't delivered yet and there was nothing he could do. He would have to wait, and it was driving him mad. Not even the fine lunch spread out on the sideboard held any interest for him.

The sun had just set when a young nurse appeared. She bobbed a simple crusty and announced, "Your majesty has a fine, healthy son."

A wave of relief crashed over him, dragging him into a chair. Finally, that was done with, and he was starving.

Eamon, a little testy after watching Alistair pace all day, asked the nurse, "And her highness?"

"Exhausted, but well."

Alistair looked up, his mouth full, "Oh, good."

And the bells ran throughout Ferelden.

Weisshaupt

Elinora wasn't sure how many Grey Warden Commander journals she had read in the past year, but she was ready to never read another. Today's batch came with a thick pile of dust that gave her a sneezing fit. The first journal was nothing new; names and dates of recruits, maneuvers, Darkspawn activity and deaths. It was easily skimmed and set aside.

She was on the second journal, grateful for High Commander Jurgen's neat penmanship, when she stumbled upon a word that she had never seen in these records: pregnant.

She read backwards until she found what was most defiantly the beginning a very a long and brutal tale.

Elinora read long and carefully, marking the most important sections. Dinner had come and gone when she knocked on the door of Rainer's private quarters.

"I found it."

He looked at her haunted eyes and took the journal she offered him. She seemed loath to let go of it. "Read the marked entries. Find me when you're done. I need to get something to eat, not that I have an appetite." She turned and left without another word. Rainer sat, opened the journal to the first marked passage, and read.

7:87 Strom – Winter 1, 23rd day

What has transpired over the last three days, I cannot rightly say. No one in Weisshaupt was of their right mind and they remember little. What I record now is what we have gleaned in our investigations. I must admit that I was also unwilling participant. These events recognized neither rank nor station.

A Desire Demon invaded Weisshaupt. Under her influence the entire population of the fortress participated in an orgy of sex and violence that lasted the bulk of these past three days. I do not know the particulars; suffice to say a summoning circle was found with two dead mages next to, seemingly drained of their life force.

Our causalities are high: 184 of the 674 men and women of this fortress are dead. 53 of the dead are women, 46 of them Wardens. 64 women remain here, 49 of them Wardens. They look at us with haunted eyes.

We all succumbed to a haze of lust which left none of us, Warden and not, unaffected. According to Healer Charlot, all 117 women of the fortress show signs of sexual activity, and many have injuries. All of us have sustained some sort of hurt.

The Demon is slain, though how I am not certain.

I shutter to think what we have done.

7:87 Strom – Winter 1 – 25th day

Charlot has come to me with very disturbing news. Thirteen Warden women are pregnant.

The last recorded pregnancy between two Wardens was almost a century ago. The mother and babe did not survive to term. I cannot be certain that all these women were inseminated by Warden males, but it may be best to assume such.

Charlot wishes to terminate the pregnancies immediately, but Hennrick insists on letting them develop naturally. Never, he says, has there been a better opportunity to observe this phenomenon. Neither Charlot nor I are comfortable with the term 'phenomenon' to describe these events. We will discuss it with the mothers.

7:87 Strom – Winter 1, 26th day

The mothers have unanimously decided to keep their children. Andraste protect them.

7:87 Strom – Winter 2, 22nd day

Raissa and her child were lost today. Charlot reports that she came into the infirmary bleeding. Nothing they could do would stop it. She bleed out in a matter of hours.

7:87 Storm – Winter 3 – 3rd day

Fanchon and her child died today, much the same as Raissa. Her screams still echo in our minds.

7:88 Strom – Spring 3, 4th day

Dagmara and her child were lost today, much worse than before. The unborn babe, still months away from its time, tried to rip its way out of its mother. In its fury, it killed her and being unready, did not survive. We are all very shaken by this.

Charlot again calls for a termination of the pregnancies, but the women have closed ranks. They have set up a guard rotation at the doors to the women's dormitories. All of the expectant mothers have taken one large room and they have a constant watch of healers. Hennrick is in there as much as he can to observe. Men are always under escort if they are allowed to enter. I have decided to let them be, as long as they continue to allow us in and their Healers continue to report to me.

It shames me to say that I had not noticed the growing fissure between the men and women of Weisshaupt. The women look at us with suspicion, and truth be told, we cannot blame them. I can only hope that time will heal this break in the Grey Wardens.

7:88 Storm – Summer 2, 10th day

Cadencia delivered her babe today, a boy she calls Gaspard. Both are weak and are being watched closely. Charlot is not hopeful.

7:88 Storm – Summer 2, 13th day

Gaspard struggled for life for three days before answering the Maker's call. Cadencia is inconsolible. His small body was burned with full Warden ceremony, though Cadencia had to be carried to the caldera. I would have spared her, but she insisted.

7:88 Strom – Summer 3, 15th day

Adelyte, after 38 hours of labor, gave birth to a girl she has named Rikka for her mother. Mother and daughter are well and nursing.

7:88 Storm – Summer 3, 16th day

Blythe had given birth to Birkey, a son, and is also doing well. I am feeling more hopeful, and even Charlot is less anxious. She has brought in serval more nurses, as we can expect the rest of the births to come in quick sucession.

7:88 Strom – Summer 3, 18th day

Githa and Hlynn both gave birth today. Githa had a son, Edrick and Hlynn a daughter, Cleva, who is not doing well.

Many Wardens have started playing parent. Some are or were before joining us and still have the instinct. I have decided to not interfere. These children will have an army of uncles and aunts.

7:88 Strom – Summer 3, 19th day

A hard day today. Durindada had a son, Thibaud, but he died within hours of being born. Cleva did not let her nursery-mate face the Maker alone, and joined him in death. The children will be cremated at dawn.

7:88 Strom – Summer 3, 20th day

Githa died during the night, her heart failing, though her Edrick is still doing fine. We also lost Durindada, following her son to the Maker. A great many Wardens attended the burning. Our hearts are growing heavy and spirits strained.

Eglantine went into labor as we attended to our fallen, safely in the birthing hall, as its been called, with many healers. Vivienne is doing well, as is Eglantine.

Three more women are due anytime now. I look forward to this being over.

7:88 Strom – Summer 3, 22nd day

After a day of peace, we have two more additions to our fortress. Marhildi had a son, Ansell. Senta had a girl, Franar. Ansell is having some difficulty and Charlot is concerned.

7:88 Strom – Summer 3, 24th day

And at last they are all here. Felisberta gave us one more daughter, Griselde.

7:88 Strom – Autumn 2, 3rd day

Ansell, son of Marhildi, left us today. I minds me that I haven't recorded much on our children of late. This loss is my admonishment. My only excuse is that I know little of children and rely on Charlot's reports for my information.

Edrick, Birkey and Vivienne are healthy and strong and seem as normal babies, or so I am told.

Rikka, Franar and Griselde are having some troubles, but only Rikka truly worries Charlot. Hennrick watches her closely, but not out of concern.

It is strange to have six babies in the fortress. I can't help but think that we should have taken them somewhere warmer in temperment and climate, but, to be frank, I would rather this incident stay somewhat contained. It will be known eventually, I am sure, but we can limit the incident's exposure.

7:88 Storm – Winter 2, 15th day

Something is wrong with Franar. Her feet are growing unnaturally and her skin has taken on a yellowish cast. Hennrick watches closely.

7:89 Storm – Spring 1, 9th day

Rikka died suddenly this morning. Adelyte was feeding her when she choked. The child wailed in an inhuman manner, her eyes turned red, and then, as fast and thought, she died. Adelyte is not handling it well. I fear for her sanity.

We are seeing other signs of trouble with Franar and Griselde. Franer's skin remains yellowed and Griselde's breathing is labored, though the healers can find no reason why. Charlot reports that they are not acting as normal babies.

Birkey, Edrick and Vivienne remain well. Blythe has happily taken Edrick as a brother to her Birkey.

7:92 Storm – Winter 3, 26th day

Birkey, son of Blythe, burns with fever, one that very closely resembles the fever we go through during the Joining. Charlot fears for the child's mind. Blythe sits by her son and weeps, unnatural for a woman born to her name. Edrick stays solemnly at his adopted mother and brother's side.

I shall note here that Edrick and Vivienne remain healthy, normal children. Four years old now and very smart according to those who know of such things.

Griselde and Franar, sadly, are not well. Their bodies grow wrong, for lack of a better term.

A few things have become clear as the children mature. We are starting to have some idea who the fathers are, but it will not be recorded unless the fathers request it. It is very clear that Griselde's father was a dwarf; Felisberta is human. We think Franar's father was an elf, given her slightly pointed ears. Senta is a dwarf. Vivienne is clearly purely elven, Birkey and Edrick human. Hennrick is cursing that he hadn't paid closer attention to the others before they died.

7:94 Storm – Autumn 2, 6th day

It is time.

Tomorrow at dawn I depart for the Crag with 12 Wardens ready to answer the Calling. Among them will be Adelyte, who never recovered from the loss of her Rikka.

It has been an honor to serve, even in such strange times.

7:94 Storm – Autumn 3, 26th day

Addendum from Healer Charlot

I am to continue a few notes about Our Children here, in High Commander Jurgen's journal. It was his wish upon departing for the Crag that there be a record of what becomes of them, but to limit it. Thus I use the same volume, so its all in one place. Future High Commanders will have to deal with the change.

They are now six years of age, each one carries the taint that their parents do. Edrick and Vivienne are extraordinarily healthy, beautiful and intelligent. Birkey's mind was affected by the fever he suffered at four. He is a sweet boy, but will never be more than that.

Griselde and Franar continue to frighten us. They have started to display unhealthy appetites and aggressions.

7:98 Storm – Spring 2, 19th day

I have failed.

Franar attacked a Warden yesterday with sword and teeth. This is only the latest unsavory bahavior that she has displayed. Senta and Felisberta sensed the growing unease among their comrades. They took their daughters and left during the night, unbeknownst to any of us.

Search parties were sent, but I don't think they will find anything. Senta is far too good for that.

And perhaps it is for the best.

8:02 Blessed – Summer 3, 7th day

Tomorrow it is my turn to go to the Crag. I will record here a decsion that has been made very quietly, but will have long standing repercussions over the ages.

The recruitment of women is discouraged for here on. Current female Wardens will complete their service as we all do, but they will have no more sisters-in-arms. It was not an offcial ban on female Wardens, for they may need us again someday, but the hope is that incidents like that of 7:87 will never happen again.

As an extra precaution, they have concoted a potion to destroy a woman's womb and are sending it around like a bloody cordial. I have seen it in action and it is horrible. At least they no longer will have to suffer monthly cycles.

I think they are fools, but they did not ask me my opinion.

The journal ends there.

Rainer went to find Elinora.

She was in the Archives.

"Haven't you had enough?" he asked.

She sighed and pushed an open journal to him. "More than, but I wanted to follow a hunch." She laid a finger on two names on a list of those departing for the Crag. Edrick and Vivienne. "They would have been thirty-five at the time."

"Charlot mentions some sort of potion?"

Elinora shook her head. "Duncan never gave me anything like that. She's vague about it, but I think I would have remember."

Rainer looked away, into the distant dusty shelves of history. "I wonder why?"

"He may not have had time or not known about it. And maybe he didn't want to."

"Maybe he sought an Edrick or a Vivienne?"

The idea did not sit comfortably with Elinora, but she simply shrugged. "Or maybe a Blight was brewing and he needed Wardens."

"I suppose we'll never know."

Elinora riffled the fragile pages of the journal. "I suppose not."


	15. Chapter 15 Green Eyed Monsters

**Duty's Journey Chapter 15**

**Green-Eyed Monsters**

The Fade – One week later

Elinora sat by the fire as she had these last five nights, waiting. Visions of babies danced in the flames.

The first two nights she had been excited to tell him that there was a possibility that she could have children. On the third, her excitement shifted to doubt and anxiety. Rainer had reminded her that Alistair was a married man with a child on the way. Would Alistair divorce Anora and marry her? The Chantry would have to grant it and Anora would have to consent. Elinora did not like her odds. Would he expect her to be satisfied with being his mistress? Would he want to try and have a baby with her, legitimate or not?

Would their baby survive? Would it be healthy?

For another two nights these thoughts haunted her as she waited. She'd read and re-read Jurgen's journal a dozen time, cursing him louder each time for being vague about the nature of Franar and Griselde's wrongness. So far she hadn't found any other records. Surely Hennrick had kept a notebook or some sort of records.

Only five out of thirteen children had survived, two of those were wrong. She didn't like those odds either.

"How did you know?"

She turned and found him staring in astonishment and pointing at the fire. Over it floated the transparent image of a baby. Stupid Fade. She reined her thoughts in and the image vanished. "Know what?"

"Anora had the baby. A boy." Emotions conflicted across his features. There was a smile, but it was kept small by the guilt which he had never been able to hide from her. Something else played there, but she couldn't say just what.

"Is he alright?"

Alistair's distant mind tried to refocus. "What? Yes, fine. Ten fingers, ten toes, cries like a Shriek."

Elinora plastered the supportive smile on her face. She would not be jealous of Anora, she would not! "Babies do that, I hear. Let me guess; you named him Duncan?"

His face fell. "Um, no, actually. Maricen"

Her quizzical look cut deeply. He'd dodged so many topics with her over the last year. He hated it. "He's not mine. Anora made sure she was pregnant before she came to me. She knew I would marry her then and her son would inherit the throne."

Elinora's mouth opened and closed a few times, and then she laughed, a mad, hysterical laugh.

It was Alistair's turn to be confused, and angry. "Its not funny."

Her giggles subsided as she tried to catch her breath. "Oh, but this is the best joke the Maker has ever played."

"Really?" The hurt that tugged at his face was unbearable.

She took his hand. "I found records. Wardens can have children, its just extremely risky."

Slowly, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her in close. "Of course. Of course, after we go through all this." He kissed her forehead and rested his chin on her head. "When are you coming home to me?"

"Not yet. Rainer has suddenly gotten interested in history and wants me to write a detailed history of the Blight and the slaying of the archdemon."

He pulled away from her. "Who's Rainer?"

"High Commander of the Grey Wardens."

"Oh," he shrugged. "I suppose that alright then."

"Alright? Alistair Theirin, are you jealous?" Her tone teased, but the idea rankled her.

"What? No, of course not. Just… I never thought…"

"Really?"

"Well…"

"Really?" The pitch of her voice rose with her incredulity. "So, its fine for you to sleep with half the noblewomen of Ferelden, but Marker forefend that a man may show interest in me? Well, that's fair!"

"I didn't..!"

"What? Enjoy their attentions? I am not stupid!" The wound was open and bleeding now. "You've enjoyed all of them, including Morrigan!"

"Morrigan? You knew?"

"Of course I knew! I could smell her on you that night. And I survived the archdemon." She turned away from him. He was ashamed, she could tell, and the sex wasn't the part she was mad about. "I just wish you had told me. It seems you have a problem with that."

"With what?"

"Omission!"

"Really?" Time to fight back. "Well, I'm not the only one who tends to omit things."

"What are you talking about?"

"Zevran said you were attacked at Weisshaupt and it didn't sound like just a fight."

Her arms crossed in front of her chest and she looked out over the void. "I handled the situation."

"You always handle the situation, but you didn't tell me about it." He put his hands on her shoulders and spun her around to face him. "How can I protect you if I don't know what's happening?"

"Protect me? You're Maker knows how far away! You can't protect me!"

"Which is why I want you to come home!" He shook her shoulders just a bit.

That was enough. Her arms swung up and angrily pushed off his hands. "I do not need your protection." She stepped away from him. "Do you know me at all?" She vanished. The last sight Alistair had of her was the hurt in those blue-green eyes.

And it made him furious.

Alistair roared and took a swing at the tent, ripping it from its stakes. He grabbed up a pole and beat the canvas with more frustrated howls. He turned his eyes to the Black City hovering above him and threw the pole. It spun in space, eventually disappearing.


	16. Chapter 16 Revelations

A/N: This is the last completed chapter I have! There's bits of two more and I know where I'm going, but life is going to be a wee bit insane for a few days. I'm hoping Chapter 17 will appear by Monday or Tuesday.

So, one more curveball and then I let you stew for a few days! *insert evil laugh here-

**Duty's Journey Chapter 16**

**Revelations**

Denerim – 8 months later

Alistair enjoyed audience day. Once a week petitioners were able to come to the palace and air their grievances with his majesty himself. There were protocols to keep the riff raff out, and a great many problems that came before him were either too far below him or too far above him to solve. Some things were the domain of the Maker.

And they often brought him treats. He liked cookies best, not only on principle but because he would share one with whoever brought them. If they wanted to poison him they would have to poison themselves too.

Today's list was light. Just over half the appointed three hours were gone and he was already on the last one. "I call forth Edyth Welsie."

An old woman appeared before him, careworn with years of hard work. Behind her trailed a small boy, hiding behind her and clinging to her hand. Alistair left his throne to go the boy. Fatherhood had been growing on him. He was looking forward to the day that Maricen was big enough to play with and not so fragile. Or surrounded by nursemaids who were afraid that king would break the baby.

"Good afternoon, Madam Welsie. And who's this then?" he said playfully, knelling to the child's level.

"He is my grandson," Edyth started. "My daughter named him for his father, Cailan."

The entire room breathed a gasp. Alistair studied the boy closely, even as Wynne approached to look as well. His hair was the golden blonde of sun kissed straw and his eyes were the same pale blue as Alistair's half-brother. It was clear, even at this early age that the boy was going to be devastatingly handsome when he grew up, just like Cailan.

"Madam, who was your daughter?"

"Her name was Enit Welsie and she was a soldier in King Cailan's army. And more, apparently." The shame in Edyth's voice was noticeable. "She came home with child just after Ostagar. He had sent her away before the battle, to protect the child, or at least that what she always believed."

Alistair's eyes never left his possible nephew, who was poking at the golden armor Alistair wore. "What happened to her?"

Edyth's head hung. "She died during the famine, chose to feed her son instead of herself."

Eamon looked hard at the woman and child. "This could be a trick, your majesty."

Alistair sighed and stood. "You think everything is a trick, except for the one thing that was. Wynne, can you be of any assistance here?"

"Do you have anything of King Cailan's?" she asked.

"His armor. We recovered it before the Blight ended."

"That will do, a gauntlet would be best." A servant ran off to fetch it, retuning just a few moments later. Alistair had gotten little Cailan to smile and pulled him out of his shyness just a bit. Wynne put the gauntlet on one hand and placed the other hand on the boy's head. A few moments of quiet magic later, she nodded. "It is his."

Eamon nodded his displeased satisfaction to Alistair, who then turned back to Edyth. "So, what do you wish of us?"

"Your majesty, I have lived a good, long life and I fear the Maker will be calling me soon. I would see the boy with his family."

"And that he shall be." Alistair's decision was made, final and irrevocable. "Come on Cailan. I got a nice big garden back here that's full mud to be played it." He scooped up the giggling boy and ran with him down the corridor.

A warm smile crossed Wynne's lips. Yes, fatherhood defiantly agreed with Alistair.

Weisshaupt

Elinora scooped a spoonful of stew and gave it a dubious look. "Is there a secret rule somewhere that Grey Wardens aren't allowed to be good cooks?"

Orbert swallows his bite of stew with a shrug. "You tell me. You're the one who's spent a year and half in the Archives."

Aldo chuckled. "It might be one of those pesky unwritten rules."

"I deny that there are any such thing." Burion sat down on the bench heavily and tucked into his stew. "I think it Anderfels' cuisine. They don't feed us like this in Orlais."

Burion had shown up six months ago from Val Foret after some sort of falling out with his company's Commander. He had been vague about the details, but persistent rumor said there was a love affair involved, with another Warden. Elinora quietly enjoyed the irony; the Wardens may have blocked women, but they couldn't stop love, or at least sex. Burion himself held the rank of Sub-Commander and was excellent company.

They were debating the nature of the meat in the stew, which even Finn was turning his nose up at, when a messenger entered the Great Hall at a fast clip. He ignored any questions and went straight to the head table and Rainer, who stood after a very quick read of his message.

"Wardens! Darkspawn incursion in the Blasted Hills. Commanders and Sub-Commanders, check your areas and report to the war room. I want everyone here in two hours. We march at dawn."

"So much for lunch," muttered Burion, shoveling one last mouthful of bad stew down his gullet. "Come on, Sub-Commander El, we got cats to herd."

Tranquility House

Anora crumpled up the hastily scribbled note in her fist.

_Small child delivered to palace. Grandmother claims him to be Cailan's son. HM has accepted him as such._

It was a lie. A cruel lie to get to the softhearted and headed Alistair. It had to be a trick.

It had to be.

Weisshaupt

The fortress of Weisshaupt was divided among the Commanders and Sub-Commanders into areas of responsibility. They had to make sure their areas were properly used, maintained and alerted when something was going on. Like orders to muster and march.

Elinora had the section that was probably the most remote in the whole bloody place; the archery range, stealth course, a few practice rooms, and kitchens because they were along the same corridor. The kitchens were first from the Great Hall and had a good amount of Wardens on kitchen duty and simply hanging about. The rest were relatively quick, being mostly empty. Still, her rounds put her a good distance from the war room. She ran from the range up to the east tower in order to not miss out on the planning.

She arrived out of breath to find the fourteen men that made up the top echelon of Warden Command inside waiting for her. They were fifteen including her, one High Commander, six sub-Commanders and currently five Commanders. She muttered and apology and walked over to the map table.

Rainer looked at his Commanders around the table and seemed to nod to them. "Warden Sub-Commander El, in recognition of your service you are hereby promoted to Commander."

"What?" She'd worked very hard these last few months, learning every trick a Warden Commander needed, but she didn't expect to be promoted like this.

"Commander Lazar left us last month, which means were are a Commander down. It has been agreed that you shall take this mission. Do well and…"

"Ferelden?"

Rainer nodded. "Ferelden."

Elinora tried not to smile. The official stamp of approval dangled just shy of her fingertips. "Mission parameters?"

Denerim

Alistair tucked little Cailan into the cot that had been brought into his chambers. Both uncle and nephew were exhausted from a fine afternoon of playing at dragons and running about the gardens. Alistair hadn't had so much fun in months.

Tomorrow he planned to go to Tranquility House with the boy, introduce him to his aunt. He couldn't wait to see Anora's face.

His wife's imagined face was replaced in his mind by Elinora's. How would she react to this sudden addition? Considering her habit of picking up strays, she would probably handle it pretty well, though he didn't know how she felt about children. They talked about having them, but he had no idea what kind of mother she would be. Then again, he couldn't imagine her as bad at anything she set her mind to.

Then again, maybe she didn't want to a part of this family any more. They hadn't spoken in eight months. That fight had been awful and he had avoided their Fade-camp since.

Maybe it was time to go back.

Weisshaupt

"Fifty Wardens are to accompany myself, Sub-Commander Burion and High Commander Rainer to the Blasted Hills to put down the Darkspawn that rise there. If possible, I will take only volunteers. Those who are willing to follow me south, please rise."

Elinora held her breath and closed her eyes. Two hundred and fifty-six Wardens sat in the Great Hall. She could just choose, expecting them to follow her simply because she held the rank of Warden Commander. She knew it was more complicated than that.

She opened her eyes.

At least two hundred men stood, ready to go into battle. She wanted to cheer with relief, but held on to her professional demeanor.

She noted the ones who sat. Most of them she counted as Wardens tied to Weisshaupt by their duties. There were a few, just a very small few, who chose to stay seated because of her. They didn't matter, not next to the numbers who stood.

She started listing off names to Burion, who wrote them down. A few changes later and she had her battalion.

"Gentlemen, we march at dawn."


	17. Chapter 17 Mending

A/N: And I'm back. Just a little something some thing to get us going again.

**Duty's Journey - Chapter 17**

**Mending**

En route to the Blasted Hills – two days later

Elinora couldn't say why, but it felt good to be on the march again. During the Blight, she had longed for the time when she could be still and sleep in a bed and bathe whenever she wanted. That life had proven just a little too dull for her, she supposed. On the march, the days were full of fresh air and activity and by nightfall she was exhausted and slept better than she had in months.

Which is why she shouldn't have been surprised when she found herself back at their camp in the Fade.

Alistair was waiting. A broad smile broke out across his face, but faded quickly and was replaced by fidgeting. "Um… look, let's just get the hard part over with. I'm sorry. I know I said some very stupid things last time, but…"

She laid her fingers on his lips and smiled. "I'm sorry too." She'd missed him terribly over those last months. With battle looming, she hadn't wanted her potential last words to him to angry ones.

He smiled again under fingers, took her hand from his lips and kissed it. He pulled her into a proper kiss, the half touch of the Fade still being better than nothing.

Fences mended, he said, "I have news. I'm not sure where to start."

"Try the beginning," she quipped lightly.

"Oh very clever. Well, let's see. In the beginning, the Maker created…" She punched him in the arm with a grin. "Too far back? Right," Alistair started with the audience day and ended with "We were supposed to go to Tranquility House yesterday, but Edyth died overnight so we delayed a day for a proper funeral. Cailin handled it very well."

"The Maker really was calling." Elinora shook her head. "Anora is going to have a fit."

Alistair smirked. "Serves her right."

Elinora considered a moment. "Does it? Having to raise her dead husband's by-blow and the child she's trying to pass off as yours?"

"Like she's doing any real child rearing." Alistair shrugged. "The boys will have a horde of nannies to make sure they don't go hungry."

"So who's going to be crown prince?"

"What?"

"Cailin has as much claim to the throne as you do, maybe more. The only catch being that he's three."

Alistair made a whiny unhappy noise. "Oh, you're making my head hurt. No more politics in this dream. New topic: what are you up to?"

Elinora smiled and told him about her promotion and their march for the Blasted Hills. "I'm not planning on going back to Weisshaupt. Once we're done, I'm planning on going to Ozzamar to start a little project, and then…"

"And then back to me." He rested his forehead on hers. "You could have skipped all this, you know. Just said you were the Commander of the Ferelden Wardens, never left."

"Yes, but then I wouldn't be official."

"As if any of it was very official. There never was much structure in the Wardens, not below Sub-Commander or above New Kid, which isn't official either."

"I should hope not." She smiled, but her look turned serious. "Alistair, I want their approval. If we want a strong Warden presence in Ferelden, the Commander has to be strong and have the backing of all the Wardens."

"Its always politics, isn't it?"

She nodded and nuzzled his nose. "Just another month or two. A little fighting, a little building and a whole lot of marching, and I'll be back."

"Promise?"

"Promise."


	18. Chapter 18 The Cuckoo's Egg

**Duty's Journey Chapter 18**

**The Cuckoo's Egg**

Tranquility House – the next day

"Your highness, his majesty is here to see you."

Anora looked up from feeding Maricen, which wasn't going well. She wasn't producing much milk and he wasn't interested in it anyway. He preferred his wet nurses, which was fine by Anora. Motherhood did not suit her.

She tidied herself up, collected her son and headed for the parlor.

Alistair had picked up a figurine of a bear that sat on the mantle. He knelt front of a small boy, dancing it around and making silly noises when Anora entered the room. He stood from his crouch and smiled at her in a way that was less than friendly.

"My wife, may I present Cailin?"

The boy turned to face her with a bright smile.

Were she a weaker woman, Anora would have fainted. As it was, she nearly dropped Maricen. There was no doubt who his father was. She knew those eyes.

Alistair scooped Maricen out of Anora's arms and knelt again besides Cailin. "Cailin, this is Maricen. You two will be brothers. Can you do that?"

Cailin nodded enthusiastically and reached out to Maricen who gripped his new elder brother's finger in his baby fist. Maricen grinned and giggled.

Anora's blood ran cold, then boiled in a rage that she had never known. She left the room before she started screaming.

En route to the Blasted Hills

Elinora had a stupid grin on her face and it was annoying High Commander Rainer. She was bright eyed and a little too chipper this morning, giving orders like a mother to her children; firm but warm.

He couldn't pin down what was causing this dislike, so he ignored it as best he could. But his eyes drifted to her every now and again. Aldo had fallen in beside her, which rankled him further. Rainer dropped out of the line on the pretense of counting his forces and checking supplies. Elinora and Aldo passed him with a nod and kept on chatting.

"You mean to tell me that you two meet in the Fade?" Aldo inquired.

Elinora shrugged. "Is it all that impossible?"

"Not impossible." Aldo considered. "Its just that the connection has be to incredibility strong between two people in order for them to find each other. And more than once is just... impressive."

"We've only managed maybe a half dozen times in the two years we've been apart."

Aldo shook his head. "Only. There are very few who have managed such a feat, and they were either very powerful mages or, well, soul-mates, for lack of a better term."

"Soul-mates?" she asked with shades of incredulity and sarcasm. "That's silly, stuff that bards sing about. Next thing you know you'll go on about true love."

"Bards sing about them for a reason. Its something we all dream of." Aldo sighed. "Poor Rainer, he doesn't stand a chance."

Elinora stopped. Fortunately the Warden behind her was far enough back to avoid running over her. "What does Rainer have to do with anything?" She resumed marching, jogging just a little to catch up to Aldo.

"Have you missed the torch he's carrying for you?"

"He's never said anything. Well, a year ago, at the Crag, but I assumed that was the ale talking."

Aldo waxed philosophic. "Ale can make the most deceitful man honest."

"But he hasn't said anything since."

Aldo snorted. "Do you really think a man like Rainer, in his position, is going to just blurt out his feelings to woman in your position? Especially after that?"

Elinora remained silent, chewing over this newest wrinkle in her life.

Tranquility House

Anora was curled up on the bed of her dim chamber, sobbing.

Alistair had never seen her shed a tear, not when he confronted her about Maricen, not when he executed her father in front of her. What had finally pierced that thick hide was a three year-old boy.

"Anora…?"

"Oh get out!" She sat up and threw a damp handkerchief at him.

He neatly dodged it. "But…"

"Leave me alone!"

"Not until you explain to me what's wrong."

"What's wrong? You idiot! You've just accepted the bastard son of my late husband, clearly begotten while we were married, into our family!"

Alistair blinked. Of all the things he didn't expect from Anora, loyalty was high on list. She'd plotted and schemed to her own ends and now she was crying because Cailin had an affair?

"Oh," was all he managed to say.

"Oh?" she shrieked just a little. "Is that all you have? You truly expected me to just take in this boy with open arms? I suppose you figure that we wives should just forgive our husband's foibles for any old reason, like he's dead or that he had a duty!"

"What?"

Anora's claws were now out, her moment of weakness enraging her. "Do you really think your pretty Warden is going to come back and all is forgiven? Rumor has your number of lovers between a dozen and a hundred. Do you think she will believe that they are all in the past?" Anora hiccupped a mirthless laugh. "And then there's the matter of your wife to consider, but I'm sure you'll just shove me away, as usual, just like he did."

Alistair was at a loss for words as she sobbed anew. He found a handkerchief and offered it to her. She snatched it out if his hand angrily and covered her face. He sat on the bed next to her and put his hand on her shoulder.

A thousand thoughts rumbled around in his head. He had never considered that Elinora wouldn't forgive and forget the other women. He'd certainly forgotten them; in fact he could only place a handful of names to a great many faces. And what about Anora? Deceitful snake or not, she was still his wife and a person, one to whom he had caused a great deal of pain. No wonder she hated him.

Guilt overwhelmed him. "I'm a bad man."

"Oh shut up," Anora sighed with frustration.

Alistair pulled her into a comforting hug and kissed her forehead. He was going to try to make it better, for the sake of the two boys off with nurses. Bastard or not, they were family.

Feminine pride in need of soothing, Anora turned her face to his and kissed him, deeply and desperately. A little coaxing and he returned her kiss. A little more and clothing fell away.

He wouldn't reject her tonight, he couldn't. One more time, what was more time?


	19. Chapter 19 Consequences

**Duty's Journey – Chapter 19**

**Consequences**

The Fade – a month later

Alistair poked at the Fade fire, making no impact on it as far as he could tell. With no idea how she would take the news he had, he was nervous. He wanted to tell her himself this time. If he was going to destroy what was between them, he would do it like a man.

"According to Aldo, this is supposed to be near impossible."

He turned to find Elinora standing behind him, armed and armored in a mix of plate and leathers. She wore a breastplate emblazoned with the double-headed griffin of Warden Commanders. It was what she'd worn in the victory parade over two years ago. She was a radiant battle maiden, just like in the old stories.

"Impossible?" he stammered, distracted by her beauty.

"Apparently only high powered mages and soul-mates can do this." She smiled proudly at him, glowing just a little.

His face crumpled. Soul mates. Of course.

"Anora's pregnant again," he blurted before she could make it any harder.

"Oh." Her glow vanished, swallowed by the news. She bit her lower lip, which made his heart skip a beat. Her chin rose, almost defiantly. "Good."

"What?"

"A spare. You are supposed to have a spare. And when it comes down to it, this one will be perfectly legitimate." She nodded at her own strategy and attempted a smile. "Good." She leaned up to him and gave him a quick kiss. "I need to get back. I'm on watch tonight."

"But Commanders don't…" She vanished before he could finish his sentence. "Damnit."

The Blasted Hills

Elinora pulled herself out of sleep with a sob.

Finn whined at her, poking is his head inside her tent from his guard post. She called him in and rubbed his ears. Sometimes a girl needed her war hound.

More babies, more of what she couldn't do. At least not easily, not as easily as Anora, apparently. This new development also meant that they had slept together. Truth be told, that was what stung.

And she couldn't go back yet, not until the baby came at least. She wouldn't interfere with this growing family. They'd been apart for so long and so much had happened. Events had brought them together, shared adventures and dangers, now they seemed to be pulling them away from each other.

Soul mates or not, could it ever work out?

She got out of her bedroll, dressed and left her tent, followed by Finn. Dawn was just an hour or two away. At the cook tent she set the kettle over the fire for a cup of tea. Everything was better with a cup of tea.

"What are you doing up so early?"

She turned to find Rainer entering the circle of firelight. Finn's tail-end wagged at him. He was already armored and ready for the day's fight, except for gloves, which were tucked in his belt. Today they would be searching the area for straggling Darkspawn, the main force of them obliterated over the last few weeks. If today's hunt turned up nothing, they would be moving on to Val Foret to re-supply and recuperate.

Elinora shrugged at him. "Bad dream woke me up. Being so close to muster there didn't seem to be a point to going back to sleep."

He studied her face. "Must have been a wicked one, you look awful."

She brushed off his concern. "Must be an Emissary around here, mucking with the Fade. I'll manage." She poured a cup of tea and tried to avoid his eyes.

His gaze remained steady on her, watching the wall build. "Wait here, I've got something to cheer you up." He left the firelight.

She was just finishing her first cup a tea when Rainer returned. He handed her a folio of documents. "What's this?" she asked.

"Your official commission and orders for the Command of Ferelden." He enjoyed watching her jaw drop as she looked through the papers. "I've been watching you. You've lead troops, organized supplies, comforted the dying, helped the wounded, supported and chided as needed. And your plans for Ozzamar show vision and forward thinking. Everything a Commander needs." Rainer held out his hand.

Elinora took it, a friendly shake of congratulations, but Rainer did not let go. She looked into his face and saw it; that look, tender and terrified. He lifted her hand, kissed it, and didn't let go. When she didn't withdraw, he turned it over and kissed the bare palm. Still, she didn't pull away. He kissed the pulse point on her wrist. He tried to read her expression, and could only identity conflict. He stepped to her, putting their bodies in contact with each other. One large hand, calloused from years of swordplay, rested on the small of her back. His embrace was possessive, but loose.

Elinora could pull away at any point. She didn't.

With his free hand, Rainer traced the scar from the archdemon, the mark of the warrior she was. She shivered just a little under his touch. Speech was risky, but he tried it and uttered the thing he'd wanted to say since the Crag. "He does not deserve you."

Intense blue-green eyes turned up to meet his azure ones. "No, he doesn't."

Slowly, Rainer lowered his mouth to hers, a tendril of blonde hair escaping his warrior's tail. He would give her every opportunity to stop this, every chance to choose. Their lips met, just like he'd dreamed for over a year. Cautiously, his tongue probed, finding her yielding, a word he had never applied to her before. A soft moan escaped her as her arms wrapped around his body. He tightened his embrace.

They couldn't say how much time passed, but a gong sounded, pulling them away from each other. Elinora stepped back and bit her lower lip. Rainer caught her hand again. "Listen, I expect nothing, but if you wish, come to me when we get to Val Foret." He released her hand and stood up straight. "Now, we have our duties to attend to."

Rainer walked away, heading for the muster point. The sky was a soft rose now; dawn had broken while they had kissed and the camp had started to stir.

Elinora was dizzy and her tea was cold.

What a way to start the morning.


	20. Chapter 20 Indecision

**Duty's Journey – Chapter 20**

**Indecision**

Val Foret – two days later

Elinora would never have called Guerr Fort a fortress, but that was what the Orlesians said it was. Outside of the parapet wall that ran around the estate, there was nothing particularly martial about it. Burion also pointed out the open fields for maneuvers and drill. Anywhere else, there would be gardens.

Despite the casual practicalities, Elinora was shocked at the ornateness of the estate. The shrubs were manicured into prefect cubes and pyramids. Graveled paths were raked clean and even. And the manor house was ridiculously over decorated, everything carved and beveled.

Elinora missed the simplicity of Ferelden.

Her second shock came from a face she hadn't seen since the coronation ball almost two years ago. She'd grown out her hair, but her smile was still the same. Leliana ran to meet Elinora as soon as she recognized her. They dissolved into girlish squeals of delighted greeting, which confused Elinora's fellow Wardens, but she caught Rainer grinning.

"Andraste's flaming sword, what are you doing here?" Elinora demanded with a massive smile.

"Alistair has me using my old Orlesian contacts to improve relations with Ferelden. When I heard about a Darkspawn incursion and that there was this great female Warden leading an army of Grey Wardens to crush them, I simply had to come and see. I knew it was you. Anything I should write a song about?"

"Phht, hardly," Elinora said dismissively. "This lot took their time, but wasn't terribly impressive."

Leliana giggled. "You seem disappointed."

"I am a little. I needed to show these manly men how to mow down Darkspawn without running off like girls."

"Oh, was that what this was all about?" Burion rumbled behind her. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"

"Sub-Commander Burion, met Leliana, bard and a companion of mine during the Blight."

Burion took Leliana's hand, bowed over it and delivered a courtly kiss. "A pleasure. I'm sure you have all sorts of juicy gossip about our battle maiden here?"

Elinora groaned as Leliana giggled. "You two fishwives have fun, I'm going to get a bath." Elinora turned and headed into the manor.

Leliana watched her go, noting the short cropped hair and unfeminine breastplate. "So how is she, really?"

Burion gave her a puzzled glace. "She's amazing. I've never seen such a lack of fear in battle, then good company afterwards. If she's built walls, then they are well hidden. I'd follow her anywhere. In fact I'm planning on following her to Ferelden when she leaves."

"She's going back?"

"High Commander Rainer," Burion nodded to a tall, blonde man who was directing Wardens to their barracks, "promoted her the other day. I suspect the official announcement will be tonight over dinner. Poor man, he has the worst timing."

Leliana cocked her head to one side and watched Burion's expression. "How so?"

"He finally got up the nerve to kiss her and now she's heading back to Ferelden."

Leliana concealed her shock with a simple, "Oh," and proceeded to get a few more details. There weren't many to be had, just that Rainer had carried feelings for Elinora for over a year, but chose not to act on them. There were two running theories on why: the first was an incident with a Warden named Quennel (which Leliana already knew all the details of, thanks to Zevran), and the second was Alistair.

Alistair. Her true love, Leliana knew it. But true or not, it hadn't precluded other lovers, at least not for him. Duty had bound him to seek the creation of an heir. Word from Ferelden had that issue dispensed with, between Maricen, Cailan and the child on the way. Poor Elinora. Each one, lover and child, had to hurt. It was really unsurprising that she would find another lover, but still, it wasn't what should be.

Leliana looked over at Rainer, giving him a hard evaluation. He was taller than Alistair, and not quite as handsome, but still attractive enough. Leliana couldn't help but notice he shared eye and hair color with Alistair, though the latter was long, straight and bound in a warrior's tail. A girl could defiantly swoon over such a man, especially one so cruelly pulled away from her own love. His arms could be very comforting indeed.

Leliana found Elinora soaking in a copper tub, oblivious to the world. "What is it with you and baths?"

Elinora squeaked, Leliana having successfully snuck into the room. "Don't do that!" Elinora sighed and shot a grimace at Finn, who was greeting Leliana with enthusiasm. "Ferocious war hound, indeed." Elinora shook her head and returned to Leliana's earlier question. "After weeks of being covered in gore, its good to finally get clean."

"Fair enough." Leliana sat on the edge of the bed, Finn settling in at her feet. She found the room a little plain for Orlesian tastes. "Next question then; what's between you and High Commander Rainer?"

Elinora froze mid scrub and bit her lip. "Nothing but mutual respect and camaraderie."

Leliana was not going to let her get away with that. "And long kisses by the fire."

"I'm going to feed Burion to an ogre," Elinora muttered. "Yes, he kissed me. What of it?"

"That's what I'd like to know. Burion tells me that you're returning to Ferelden now that this is all done, and you have the Command. What about Alistair?"

"What? You mean the man who claims to love me, yet slept with every noblewoman who threw herself at him? The one with the pregnant wife?"

Leliana flinched. "You heard about that, eh?"

Elinora nodded. "Its just as well, he needs spare."

She stared at her old leader a moment, then Leliana shook head. "I forget your were raised a noble sometimes."

Elinora splashed at her bathwater. "Oh yes, I know the game. I know what's expected, which is why I can't blame him as much as I'd like to."

"Still," Leliana sighed, "its not fair to you."

"No, its not. But I don't expect any of this to be fair."

"And thus the kissing." Leliana plucked at the coverlet on the bed. "Just kissing?"

Elinora groaned with frustration. "Yes, just kissing." She gave Leliana a conspiratorial glance. "He's offered more."

"Oooh." Leliana giggled as she got off the bed and strolled over to Elinora's pack. Rummaging around, she pulled out a long vest, meant to be buttoned to the chin. "What is this?" she asked judgmentally.

Elinora spared it a quick glance. "A vest. I think it has a more technical name, but I don't know it. Its normal in Anderfels."

"For men or women?"

Elinora shrugged, stood from her tub and pulled a towel around her. Leliana tsked. "You really should wear something that flatters your curves more, since you have them."

Elinora towel dried her short hair. "Sorry, I've been trying to be one of the boys. Curves are not helpful." Her mouth twitched a little as she pulled a clean tunic from her pack and a roll of bandages.

Leliana raised an eyebrow at the bandages. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I've been binding down my breasts."

"What? That's barbaric!"

Elinora shrugged again. "They don't stare as much."

"How is it that Rainer noticed that you're an attractive woman?"

Elinora secured the bandage. "Sheer luck."

Leliana passed Elinora her tunic. "So, what are you going to do about him?"

"I don't know." A bell tolled from somewhere. "That's dinner. Let's go."

Burion was right. High Commander Rainer did, indeed, proclaim Elinora Cousland Commander of the Wardens of Ferelden before the assembled Wardens at dinner. Leliana watched them closely.

Rainer's eyes never left Elinora. He touched her when he could, holding her hand a little too long when they shook, resting his hand on her shoulder as he spoke to the men. His admiration was obvious to anyone.

Elinora remained coolly aloof, neither pulling away or adding to his subtle affections. Leliana could see it, the conflict, the indecision, but only because she knew what to look for. Rainer whispered something to Elinora before she left the dining hall. The look she gave him was indecipherable.

War was easy, love was hard.


	21. Chapter 21 The Invitation

A/N – I'm such a tease. Also, I haven't played Leliana's backstory, so there are some details that I'm just making up. Please forgive my violation of canon and enjoy!

**Duty's Journey - Chapter 21**

**The Invitation**

Val Foret – the next day

"So, you found no record of what became of Edrick and Vivienne?"

Elinora shook her head and pulled down another old journal. The dates were wrong, so she returned it. "Nothing until they were recorded going to the Crag, which is good, we at least know how old they were. But we've got nothing on their lives, or what became of the others."

Leliana ran her finger over the spines of a set of bound books, none of them useful. "Its so sad. They were miracles and yet the Grey Wardens didn't see fit to record their doings."

"What I wouldn't give for Hennrick's notes." Elinora sneezed from the dust.

Leliana considered the problem. "Could they be at another Warden posting? Or the Circle? Or even the Chantry."

Elinora blinked at the bard. "That rather multiplies my problem."

"Sorry," Leliana said, wrinkling her nose.

"Commander El!"

"Back here, Orbert!" The young man jogged into the library and saluted. Despite being one of the first Wardens she knew at Weisshaupt, Orbert had always kept up formalities. He was only a year or two younger than Elinora, but still he showed her difference. She figured it was and Anderfel thing.

"Commander El, High Commander Rainer would like to see you immediately."

"Thank you, Orbert. I'll be right there." Orbert nodded and left, again at a quick jog.

"Well then," Leliana said lightly as she pulled a stack of books from a shelf, "you go on and I'll keep researching."

"Oh no, you're coming with me."

"What? Why?" Leliana's innocent grin fooled no one.

"Distraction. Come on." Elinora pulled the other woman out of the library and down the corridor to the room Rainer was using as a study.

Rainer sat on the edge of the great carved desk reading over a very fine piece of parchment with ribbons and seals hanging off of it. Leliana eyed them with a little amusement. "Uh-oh. That looks like an imperial summons."

Rainer gave Leliana a questioning glance, then passed the parchment to Elinora. "Her Imperial Majesty requests the honor of your presence as soon as is convenient."

Elinora read over the flowery language and was able to discern the invitation. "Why?"

Leliana sniffed. "I fear you may have become the latest fashion in Orlais; female warriors. Ugh, girls are going to be beating up on each other for at least six months. Either that or she wants to put the slayer of the archdemon on display for a bit." She shrugged. "Or both."

Elinora groaned and Rainer plotted. "We did just take care of an outbreak. It would be good for relations with the Empire if you went."

"Maybe for Ferelden too," Leliana added.

Elinora joined in the game of politics. "The Orlesian Wardens would be our first reinforcements, should there be an incursion. And we are vulnerable at the moment." Elinora sighed. "I'll go, day after tomorrow. I need to select the men that will accompany me to Ferelden once we're done with the Empress."

"And I," Leliana cut in, "will head out today and make some arrangements."

"Arrangements?"

"Appointments with the best seamstresses, cobblers and armors in Val Royeaux, as well as some invitations from the greatest and most influencal families in Orlais, of course. Don't want you walking into that viper pit unprepared." She slipped out of the room before they could stop her.

Elinora's focus stayed on the door. "I'd better go see…"

Rainer caught her hand. She turned to face him. "My offer still stands," he murmured.

She glanced toward the door, listening for other eavesdroppers in the halls. "And what do you expect to come of it, should I take you up?" she asked, her voice low and carefully composed.

"Nothing." He lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss to it, a flare of hope burning in his eyes. "I will return to Weisshaupt and you will go to Val Royeaux, and we will never ask what if."

A very small smile traced her lips as her hand squeezed his just a bit, then pulled away. "I have duties to see to." She saluted and left Rainer's study.

To find Leliana casually leaning against the wall outside Rainer's door. Elinora kept walking, the bard falling in beside her.

"I've been thinking," Leliana began, "it's the 'what if's that can drive one mad. I'll see you in Val Royeaux."


	22. Chapter 22 The Choice

A/N: As if the M rating wasn't enough, EXPLICT. NSFW if you have nosy cube-neighbors who reads over your shoulder!

**Duty's Journey - Chapter 22**

**The Choice**

The Fade – in the dark of night

Alistair walked a slow circle around the island that their camp sat on, concentrating, wishing. He knew if tried hard enough she would appear.

She didn't.

Eventually, he pulled himself out, settling into a lonely, dreamless sleep.

Val Foret

Elinora ghosted down the corridor, alone for once. She'd put Finn in the kennels for the night, and he was not happy about it. It was long after midnight. Most of the fortress was asleep and the watch had changed not long ago. Everyone should be where they were supposed to be, not roaming the halls. Even so, she was grateful that her old stealth skills hadn't faded in the year or more of heavy fighting.

No one saw her reach Rainer's door. No one saw her stare at it for at least five minutes, debating. Since that kiss at camp, the same arguments had been turning over in her head.

What if she didn't fit into Alistair's life anymore? Where was her place among his children and his wife? Could she be the other woman?

What if he didn't love her anymore?

What if she had to choose between the Grey Wardens and him?

She thought of Branka and Oghren, how her obsession had destroyed their marriage. It could happen to her, her mission becoming all consuming.

What if the loneliness, the steadfast celibacy, she'd lived with for the last two years was all she had to look forward to?

What if she didn't make it back to Ferelden? She was hard to kill, but not impossible. Maker knew how many things could get in her way.

And a persistent Antivan accented voice whispered something about enjoying love while you can. Or was it pleasure? Or were they he same thing from Zevran?

Didn't she deserve her own dalliance?

Rainer was offering her a moment to feel like a woman again. He was warm and alive and here, not some half-there dream. He had no expectations of her, no plans. And that kiss had awakened certain stirrings deep in her body that she couldn't get settled again, feelings she had neatly set aside since her arrival at Weisshaupt. She thought they were safely locked away, waiting for Alistair to release them again. Turns out he wasn't the only one with a key.

Elinora knocked.

The door opened quicker than she was expecting, and he wasn't as sleep-tussled as she would have thought. He was dressed for bed, hair unbound and flowing, wearing nothing but a loose pair of breeches. Clearly, he'd been waiting.

A powerful arm shot out, wrapped around her waist and pulled her into the room, much grander than her own. He shut the door quickly and, without a heartbeat's hesitation, devoured her with a kiss.

After several minutes, she gently pushed him away. Rainer's brows furrowed slightly. "I thought…"

"You thought right, but I want something clear. We have tonight, then I go to Val Royeaux, then on to Ferelden to take up my command. We have no claims on each other."

"None past this night." He ran his fingers down her scar. "Tonight, I am yours and you are mine. Just tonight." He picked her up and carried her to the bed, a large four-poster thing with fine sheets, which he laid her gently upon. With his help, she kicked off her boots and stockings, his steady hands caressing her lower legs.

Footwear removed, Rainer crawled over her, his body covering hers. A look of discomfort crossed her face, and he shifted to her side, pulling her close in one smooth motion. "If you want to escape, just tell me," he rumbled. "I would never…"

"I choose this." Her fingers carelessly ran through his golden hair and on to trace his strong jaw. No more encouragement needed, his mouth ravished hers, urgent and possessive.

He lifted his lips away as large hands reached for the buttons at her neck. "May I? I've wanted to take this thing off of you for ages."

Elinora nodded and stretched her neck. Rainer undid the first button, directly under her chin, laying a delicate kiss on the inch of flesh it exposed. He continued downward with each button until he ran into the tunic she wore under the vest. The rest of them were quickly undone. She sat up and allowed him to push the vest away, pulling the tunic off herself as soon as the vest was clear. Both ended up in a puddle on the floor.

"Are you injured?"

"What?" She looked at her chest, having forgot about the binding. "Oh, just trying to keep them out of the way. Here." She undid the knot that held the bandages tight.

"Let me." Rainer carefully unwound the length of linen, watching as her breasts surfaced from their imprisonment. Eventually, the linen joined the vest and tunic on the floor. Rainer stared hungrily at the shapely mounds she had been so carefully hiding.

Elinora raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you've never done this before."

He chuckled softly, eyes meeting hers. "I have, a great many times, though not with a great many women. It's just been a while." He filled a hand with her tender, feminine flesh, eliciting a sweet moan from her. His free arm circled her waist, dragging her closer. Lowering his head slowly, blonde waves tickling her naked belly, he curled his tongue around a bared nipple, the other hand massaging the captured breast. Her ululations were the most glorious sounds he had ever heard.

He was content to enjoy the build up with Elinora for an impressive while, exploring every inch of her exposed flesh. He'd vowed long ago never to take sex lightly, even if the affair was brief. Even as Idetta lay dying, she told him that love shouldn't die with her. He hadn't indulged much since her, finding every other woman lacking. Until Elinora, who's heart belonged to someone else. It didn't matter. She was here now, his for this moment and he was content to take what he could get.

Elinora shifted away and tugged at the plain leggings that were usually hidden under the layers of vest and tunic. Rainer slid them and her small clothes off in one smooth motion. He knelt beside the bed with a playful reverence, the mattress level with his chest. He brushed a kiss to her right knee and Elinora giggled. "That tickled." He liked her light laugh and encouraged a few more with delicate kisses first to her knees, then moved upwards. By mid-thigh the giggles had evolved into gasps.

Still kneeling beside the bed, his strong hands pulled her hips to its edge and gently pushed her legs apart. Rainer shot her a wicked grin as he lowered his head and kissed her inner tights. Her momentary confusion at that smile dissolved with a groan of pleasure. Rainer's tongue probed deeply inside her, finding this one place that made her cry out and writhe. Target acquired, he pursued it, determined to bring his prize home. The pleasure was so intense that she tried to escape it, but he was relentless, consuming her until she convulsed her release with a shuttering cry, muffled by a convenient pillow.

Rainer watched her chest rise and fall in quick pants as she tried to catch her breath. He stood, golden hair spilling over his naked chest as he removed his breeches. A small prideful smile crossed his lips at the pleasure he had brought her. He was sure that her little king had never done that, but he knew better than to mention it. Instead he returned to the bed, pulling her lithe body along side him, kissing her neck and jaw.

"Are you ready, my little minx?" he breathed into her ear.

She turned her blissful face to him with a rueful smile. "Told you not to call me that."

Rainer shifted to hover over her. "Even now?"

"Maybe right now." Elinora played with a lock of his hair that fell in the air between them.

"Now, then." With a roll of his hips, his hardened loins claimed her, entering the tight channel, unexplored for so long. She arched and moaned under him, her hands digging into the muscles of his back. He used every ounce of discipline learned over years of military service to control himself. He wanted to hear her cry out again, and his patience was rewarded. As her moans faded, he let that control go, his speed and power increasing until he couldn't hold on anymore. He plunged once more deep inside her, impaling her with his full length as floodgates burst open.

They drifted down from the heights of passion, wrapped in each other's embrace.

"Now what?" she whispered as the afterglow faded.

Rainer kissed her forehead. "We get a little sleep. You skulk back to your quarters right after the third watch shifts, just like you did getting down here."

"I suppose it wouldn't do to be seen leaving your rooms."

"Well, it wouldn't do for you, I think. I would get congratulated."

He could feel her eyes roll. "Men. Bloody double standards." A finger lazily tracing his pectorals stopped. "You're not going to brag about this, are you?"

"What? Bedding the great hero of Ferelden, lover of the king?" She stiffened and he turned, putting his face directly before hers, eyes locking. "I would never impugn your honor by boasting about this. This is between me and you, and its no one else's concern."

"Good." She nestled against his chest, enjoying the comfort of his arms. For now she believed him, which was all the assurance she would get.

They drifted into sleep. Elinora kept herself to a cat nap-like rest, not wanting to fall into the Fade. With her luck she would find herself back at camp with Alistair waiting, probably with another painful piece of good news. She couldn't help but wonder if this time apart would have been easier if they couldn't meet, but it didn't matter now.

Eventually, the bell sounded that signaled the end of third watch. Elinora sat up and gathered her clothing. Rainer rose behind her. "You should wait a bit, let everyone get where they're going." He brushed light kisses over her shoulders.

She fiddled with her tunic. "You're right." She looked back at him with a sultry glance. "How ever shall we pass the time?"

He grinned lustily. "I can think of a few things." His tongue traced a line down her spine, making her shiver.

Decision made, she swung herself around and straddled him. "How's this?" she asked playfully.

"Brilliant," he moaned as she rolled her hips. In another smooth motion, he was sheathed inside her, her body rising and falling with a measured rhythm. His hands tried to touch everything within reach, which wasn't enough, none of it would ever be enough. He sat up, holding her body tight against his, even as she continued her movements. Now upright, he could put his mouth to work as well as his hands, which he did, finding the stiff peaks of her breasts. When she arched back with a keening wail, her face lost in ecstasy, he rolled her on to her back and allowed himself the intense pleasure of wild abandon.

Sated, Elinora pulled herself from his bed and dressed hurriedly. She gave Rainer one last, long kiss before slipping into the corridor.

With a deep sigh of pleasure, Rainer collapsed onto his bed and inhaled the sweet scent she left behind.

In the hall, Elinora moved quickly and quietly, hoping that everyone not on watch was still enjoying the freedom of recuperation. Wardens were rarely granted a reprieve from a rigid schedule of training, but after a long fight they'd earned it. Duties were greatly curtailed and there were no required trainings to attend. The halls should be clear.

And they would have been, except for Aldo, who waited outside her door. The look he gave her resembled one she'd gotten long ago from Fergus when he caught her stealing honey cakes from the larder. But she was no longer a guilty child. "Inside, now," she whispered as she opened her door. Aldo went in without a word.

A/N Part II: This is the first sex scene I've dared let anyone see. Aren't you special? No really, I'd love to know how effective it was.


	23. Chapter 23 Baggage

**Duty's Journey Chapter 23**

**Baggage**

Val Foret – the morning after

Rainer blinked away the sleepiness he couldn't shake. He hadn't slept much recently, his mind refusing to cease imagining what would happen if Elinora came to him.

And then she actually came to him.

He figured his chances were nil once they got to Val Foret and found that bard waiting. Leliana was a stinging connection to Elinora's life during the Blight, and to Alistair. Rainer scowled at his name, but would say nothing else against him. It would be ungentlemanly.

Rainer was halfway to his desk when he noticed Aldo leaning against it. He really must be exhausted to miss the pudgy mage. "What do you want?"

Aldo raised an eyebrow at Rainer's terseness, but let it go. The man was clearly sleep deprived. Aldo waved a hand and the door to the study closed with a distinct slam. "So, you finally managed to get between her and her king. Impressive. What are your intentions?"

Rainer poured himself some water and tried to gather his thoughts. "Still playing her big brother, eh? Fine." He took several gulps of water. "I have none. She's free to go back to Ferelden and continue to be pushed aside by that wretched bastard. Happy?"

"Not in the least, mostly because I fear you're right." Aldo grimaced. "But that's something she's just going to have to figure out for herself. I'm going with her, by the way."

"I figured as much, big brother has to stay close to keep the rouges away."

"That, and Ferelden's short on mages as well as Wardens." Aldo plucked casually at a bit of thread on his robes. "So that's it then, between you two?"

"That's it. Once she marches out tomorrow, I don't expect to ever see her again."

"That's a damn shame. Idetta would have approved of Elinora Cousland."

"Your sister was always a good judge of character."

Aldo chuckled sadly. "Who'd ever have thought we'd end up here again?"

Rainer clapped Aldo on the shoulder. "Its good to see that some things never change."

* * *

Elinora had a lot of work to do and barely any energy to deal with any of it. This morning had started with an uncomfortable conversation with Aldo, followed by selecting the Wardens who would leave with her tomorrow. She could just have them meet her in Orzammar, but she felt that showing up in Val Royeaux with a large contingent would not only be impressive, but would prove to be too many houseguests for the Empress. Elinora did not want to linger in the Orlesian capital.

By lunch she had her twenty Wardens selected and preparing to depart at dawn. She had an appointment with the quartermaster during the mid-afternoon, which gave her some time to kill. Now it was time to deal with her own baggage.

She laid out the clothing and newly cleaned armor that she would wear tomorrow, making sure that everything was in its best condition. Next, she dumped her pack out on the bed, ready to purge it of any junk she had managed to pick up.

On the top of the pile fell a wooden box, about as long as her lower arm, but about half the girth. It was meant to carry rolled parchment, pens and a small vial of ink. Instead it held a few letters and a rose.

Guilty tears welled up and fell before she could even try to fight them. Finn whined at her and rested his great head against her thigh. She sat heavily on her bed and rubbed his ears. "Thank you for keeping our relationship simple." Finn grinned a doggy grin at her.

She indulged in childish weeping for a few moments, keeping her watering eyes on Alistair's rose as punishment. Finn turned to the door and growled. She looked up just in time to see Rainer slip in. "Are you alright?"

Elinora snapped the box closed with one hand and wiped her face with the other. "Fine. Must have stirred up some dust while I was packing. Why did you think something was wrong?"

"Warden connection. It can get pretty strong between… some."

She flinched and turned to the collection of odds and ends on her bed and started sorting them. Take, leave, sell, junk, unmated sock… tears threatened again. Why would a lone sock make her cry?

Rainer watched her. They were taught that warriors don't cry, but it was a complete lie. He'd seen men who could single-handily take a whole legion weep over a fallen comrade or a letter from home. He had a feeling he knew what was in that box. Though he never admitted it, he'd read Alistair's letter to her too.

Carefully he sat beside her on bed, dodging the Marabri, who was not happy with him. Finn's ears remained flat against his head and eyes on Rainer, but stayed still. Elinora faced away from him, trying to hide her tears. His arms slowly wrapped around her tense body, trying to shield her from all the hurt. Of course, he was part of the cause of her pain.

Maker forgive him, but he would hold on as long as he could.

She eased a little into his arms, allowing herself some comfort, comfort she knew she would have to leave soon or be lost to it.

"El," his voice was low in her ear, "if you find that Ferelden isn't what you wanted, come back to me."

At first his words were sweet, then they turned over in her stomach. She left his arms and stood. "So, what you're saying is that if Alistair doesn't want me, you'll take me."

"Of course." He couldn't understand why her face was suddenly so stormy.

"And my command?"

Rainer could feel the metaphorical ice breaking underneath him, but he didn't think fast enough. "Someone will take it."

"So, these last two years have just been a way to pass the time until Alistair was done with begetting heirs?"

"What?"

"High Commander, if I didn't earn the command of the Ferelden Wardens…"

"Of course you…"

"I wouldn't want it thought that I seduced my way into a command."

"You didn't…"

"Oh right, all of this was just and excuse to get back to my true love's side. I really don't want to lead Wardens against unspeakable horrors, I just want to get back to fawning over Alistair."

"I…"

"And if that doesn't work out, I can always come crawling back to you, right after I throw away that silly command."

"You're being…"

"What?"

Rainer searched for the word that wouldn't make the situation worse. "Unreasonable."

"Unreasonable?" A mirthless laugh bubbled up from some dark place inside her. "No, I'm not being unreasonable. I'm acting like a madwoman, which shouldn't be surprising. The last three years would have driven anyone mad." Elinora fixed her gaze on her steadfast Finn, the only connection she had with the girl who played on the towers of Highever. "Three years ago my greatest worry was being married off to someone awful. Three years ago I'd never killed anything larger than a deer and more dangerous than a boar. There were no darkspawn, no Wardens and no men trying to tear me in pieces." She sighed, pulling herself together. "I need to pack now."

Rainer watched the shield of cold determination fall over her as she picked up the small box and shoved it into her pack followed by a few other objects. She neither spoke nor looked at him.

He rose and headed for the door. "Rainer," he stopped and looked at her, the woman he would always call his battle maiden, "there is no going back."


	24. Chapter 24 Parting

A/N – One last little hit for all you Rainer fans out there, since he seems to have some and some over-exposition, but that's how it goes sometimes.

**Duty's Journey – Chapter 24**

**Parting**

Val Foret – same day, just before dinner

Aldo swiped his hand down his face with a small groan. How in the Maker's name did these two manage to cock things up this badly? The situation was impossible enough without their own stupidity getting in the way. And as pre usual, it should have been obvious.

Really, very simple.

For Elinora, the Grey Wardens had come first, Ferelden had come first. That command made her sacrifices worth their pain and she knew the importance of a strong Warden presence better than any of them. Aldo knew this life hadn't been her choice, be she had embraced it and made it her mission. It could not be thrown away for the love of one man. Or two.

As for Rainer, he was not used to women, at all really, and ones like Elinora especially. Aldo had known women like her at the Circle in Hossberg; determined, purposeful and not about to settle down to domesticity, neither for love nor money. Rainer's experience was more limited. The women of their village had been tough, pragmatic wives and mothers. He'd been raised with distinct spheres of male and female influence, sometimes jealously guarded. Rainer understood El the Warden, gender lost in battle and dress, but Elinora the woman was a different matter. In his mind she'd crossed back into female territory and he'd made some foolish assumptions.

Clear as a still pond.

With a shake of his head, Aldo headed to the barracks to pack. If Idetta was watching them from the Fade, she was laughing her head off.

* * *

Elinora re-checked the list of supplies and equipment that would be coming with her. It was pretty scant, but she didn't expect to be setting up housekeeping in Amaranthine for a while yet. Eight months at least.

That was when it hit her, a little project she hadn't gotten around to back in Weisshaupt. If she wanted it done, she'd have to ask for Rainer's assistance.

Damnit.

Pride firmly swallowed, she headed for his study. Truth be told, she really didn't want to leave things between them like they were; destroyed in something resembling a tantrum. She could handle an apology, and would like to before dinner.

Aldo was not going to let her live this down.

* * *

Rainer sat at his desk blearily staring at the requisition list that Aldo had delivered along with some pestering questions. The mage had sensed the heightened emotions coming from Elinora and Rainer and wouldn't let it go. Once a big brother, always a big brother, even though Idetta was dead and she and Rainer had never married. The Darkspawn had seen to that.

He ignored the old pain and focused on the new. Aldo's lecture given Rainer some clue as to Elinora's fury, but the men had agreed that she had overreacted a bit. Aldo chalked it up to stress. Rainer suspected it was much more personal.

A knock on his study door pulled him from his thoughts to find their subject in front of him. Elinora closed the door, took a deep breath and raised her chin. "I'm sorry."

Rainer met her eyes, still a little red-rimmed. He nodded, "Accepted." He would not smirk and he would not gloat, in fact the only reward he would allow himself is a little hope. "Is there something I can do for you?" He wanted to add 'to you,' but resisted. Apology done, they were back to Commander and High Commander. New Commanders always needed something.

"I need some help on a project I didn't get to. I was looking so hard for other information in Weisshaupt's archives, I forgot to make copies of what I'd already found in Jurgen's journals." A mildly sheepish look blushed her cheek.

Rainer chuckled just a little. "I'll see it done. Where should I have them sent?"

"Good question. I want Wynne to read them. She's either in Denerim or at the Circle Tower. Most likely Denerim."

His expression darkened just a hint, but he wouldn't let her see his displeasure. Denerim equaled Alistair. Then again, maybe King Alistair, a Grey Warden himself should read that dark little bit of history. "I'll have them sent there, then."

Elinora smiled in a cool professional sort of way. "Thank you. See you at dinner." She turned to leave. Rainer lunged across his desk and caught her hand. She paused, then turned to face him.

Rainer blinked, trying to figure out what to say, now that he had her. "Ah… are you prepared to leave?"

"Yes, all packed and organized." She looked down at her captured hand. "We muster at dawn and head out as soon as we can."

"So, tonight…"

Elinora bit her lip. "Let's just get through dinner first."

A goofy grin spread across his face, which reminded her of Alistair. "And then dessert." Rainer kissed her hand. Elinora groaned. Not only was he smiling like Alistair, but now he was making horrible jokes like him too. She was beginning to think they were plotting against her, using charm as their weapon.

* * *

Dinner that night was a celebration in farewell to the departing Wardens. Stories were exchanged, toasts made and just about everyone got very drunk. Wardens were very good drinkers when the mood took them. Elinora, like her first time at the Crag, nursed her tankards of ale. This time solely because she did not like the idea of marching with a hangover.

Well before midnight, Elinora started making her rounds of good-byes to those who would not be going with her. Rainer noticed when a great mountain of an infantryman smothered her in bear hug and bellow. Barth was weeping, a prime example of the deep emotions of some of the greatest warriors.

Rainer climbed upon the table and raised his tankard. "To the Hero of Ferelden, Warden Commander Elinora Cousland, and the return of the fairer sex to our ranks! She is the first in a century and a half, but by her example, she shall not be the last. To Warden El!"

The room roared as Barth and Rainer pulled her up. She walked the length of the table, clinking mugs as she passed other men. At the end she turned, bowed to the company, saluted, and, for good measure, curtsied. With the thunder of cheers, raps to the table and a bit of laughter, she hopped down and departed the hall.

She headed for the kennels. Finn needed a good run so he would sleep, and she needed sometime to unwind. She was on her way up to her rooms when Finn stopped and growled.

"Why does he hate me?" Rainer asked from the intersection of the corridor.

Elinora knew the answer, but wasn't about to tell him. "Couldn't say," she said innocently.

Rainer grinned and looked up and down the hallways. "So, if you go this way," he pointed down the left hand corridor, "you would end up in your rooms and get a decent night's sleep. But, if you go this way," he point down the right hand corridor, "you'll get to…"

Elinora rushed him and got a hand over his mouth before he could say something incriminating. She would try to at least keep some semblance of professionalism, even it was totally lost with their bodies pressed against each other. "I know what's that way," she whispered. His quarters, his bed and a night of pleasure. Keeping her hand where it was, she looked down both corridors and to Finn, who whined at her.

Slowly she eased her hand from his mouth, keeping her eyes steady on his. She stretched herself on her tiptoes and kissed him, deep and slow. Rainer's arms circled her, but she stepped away before they could tighten. "Good-bye, Rainer."

Elinora, back straight and gaze fixed, took the left corridor.


	25. Chapter 25 The Show

A/N: So sorry for the delay. This chapter didn't come easy for some reason.

Also, a little note on fashion. Elinora's dress is based of early Italian Renaissance fashion and a dress I recently made (give or take some details), much the same style as the ball gown in Ever After. In case you needed a visual.

And my apologies to my readers who care nothing for fashion history!

**Duty's Journey – Chapter 25**

**The Show**

Val Royeaux – two months later

Elinora was enjoying peace and quiet in the steam room of the royal palace. Just a few more days she and her Wardens would march for Orzammar to begin the first phase of her plans for Ferelden. Bhelen owed her a favor or two, and she was going to cash in.

The months in Val Royeaux had been a new brand of arduous, even for a woman of noble birth. Leliana had been right; Elinora was the newest fashion in many ways. All of Orlais wanted to show her how she had inspired them.

Several fighting schools for young women had sprung up, and there were even some promising fighters among the students. Elinora had the feeling that, if anything, the young women of Orlais would be better able to defend themselves in the years to come. Rights or not, some chevaliers were going to find it more difficult to take whatever they wanted.

She'd gained real and useful followers as well. Two experienced Wardens, both mages and exhausted of dealing with the powerful Orlensian Chantry, were coming with her to Ferelden. At this rate the Ferelden Wardens would have more mages than the Circle, which suited Elinora just fine. The more power and influence she wielded, the better position the Grey Wardens were in.

There were also two recruits, both women, eager to follow the legendary Hero of Ferelden. Elinora had a long talk with Alcina, a human, and Maphisa, an elf. She left the details vague, but made it clear that they may not survive to become Wardens and that it would be unlikely for them to have children. The girls exchanged a look and accepted the news with the gravity their commander wanted. They had been Chantry orphans together, turned out at the same time, being too old to remain without taking orders. That life wouldn't suit a couple of adventurous girls, but life on the streets had been unpleasant to say the least. The Grey Wardens offered an opportunity to use their talents and be taken care of.

Maphisa and Alcina had proven useful for Elinora's own purposes as well. They were an excellent excuse to evaluate the training methods and structures of the Orlesian Wardens. Weisshaupt, steeped in the military traditions of the Anderfels, was strictly regimented and focused on unit maneuvers. The Orlesians valued single combat. Elinora saw the value of both and was developing training routines accordingly. When she had the time.

Leliana had been horribly correct about something else: Elinora once again felt like a bloody unicorn, now captured for everyone to stare at. Women warriors were not all that uncommon in Ferelden. When it came down to it, the gender of the person swinging the sword did not matter so much when the walking dead flooded your village. But Orlais had a strong national army, almost entirely male, that stationed itself throughout the Empire, instead of local militias. They could be picky. They could also be stupid.

At any rate, the last two months had been a seemly endless march of parties, soirées and various formal meals. Every titled family wanted a piece of her, just to say they had _the_ Elinora Cousland in their midst. Leliana had helped her negotiate the piles of invitations and made sure she was properly attired for each event. Elinora forbid a new outfit for each gathering, though it was normal in Orlais. Instead she had one or two suitable ensembles to fit the occasions, with pieces as mix and match as possible. The seamstresses and tailors, which she had lost count of, were scandalized by her lack of interest in fashion. Elinora tried to politely insist that she had work to do that didn't involved fabric swatches, and managed it most of the time.

To add discomfort to annoyance, the Empress had insisted on a portrait of Elinora done in the latest style. For the last month the it had been in progress, and for much of that Elinora had to do some time, a few hours a day, poising in armor with sword arm raised. Her right shoulder still hurt. The artist had asked endless questions of both her and Leliana to get the details of the Battle of Denerim and the slaying of the archdemon. Tonight would be the unveiling, and the last social engagement on her schedule.

Of course, it wasn't just a party. It was a ball.

"My lady?"

Elinora grimaced. It was time to leave the humid paradise and get dressed. She was dreading this. She never thought she would long for the simple vest, tunic and leggings of her days in Weisshaupt, but frilliness of fashion for both genders in Orlais was ridiculous.

The elven servant helped her dress from the spa session (if there was one thing Elinora liked about Orlesian culture, it was the spas) and led her back to her guest rooms. She was stopped five times by various nobles for some trivial comment or another, most in anticipation of tonight's festivities. Each one Elinora tried to escape quickly but with as little rudeness as possible. She silently thanked the Maker for her mother and her endless etiquette lessons. Eleanor Cousland was somewhere in the Fade, laughing.

Upon gaining her rooms, Elinora was greeted by a small herd of dressers, stylists and servants, set to get her dressed. Memories of the coronation ball two years past came flooding back to her. Andraste's flaming sword, had it been two years? It felt like yesterday, but as she sat in front of the mirror to have her hair arranged, she noticed that the lines on her face said otherwise. The last three years had been hard on her, first the Blight, then the work to cement her command in the Grey Wardens. Even at twenty-two years old, there were crow's feet appearing at her eyes. She just might have to do something about that.

And of course, she remembered Alistair. He had tried so hard in his sweet, steadfast way to get her to stay, to avoid the inevitable. But they both knew that night; from the moment she walked into the Great Hall to when he had slipped out of that little receiving room after their last tryst. Everything was clear and thought out and the grey areas would be filled in later. There was no emotional toll in planning, that came later.

And she hadn't calculated on Rainer, not even a little.

The guilt sat in her stomach like a lead brick.

Several hours of primping and draping later, she was declared ready and pulled in front of a massive mirror for inspection.

Over a low cut, white silk chemise went a deep blue overdress in the current Orlesian fashion, which seemed to be the direct opposite of Ferelden. Back home, women wore waist-cinching corsets that stopped just beneath the breasts over tunics and skirts. But in Orlais, they were not interested in back support or wasp waists. The overdress was designed so that the blue split skirts started just beneath the breasts, carefully pleated into a shallow bodice that worked like the simple brassieres Elinora was familiar with, but with very functional shoulder straps. They had fitted it to her carefully, making her bosom heave in a way that would have enraptured Zevran. The whole thing was held by a single hidden hook right between her breasts. At least it would be easy to get out of, which, given Orlesian pastimes, could be the point. Gilding this lily was enough silver trim to decorate an army.

And that was before the accessories. Her upper arms were gauntleted with more blue silk, embroidered with the rampant griffons of the Grey Wardens, which were tied to the shoulders of the overdress. Her lower arms also had gauntlets with yet more trim, the chemise spilling forth at the wrists with white lace. Someone must have been at Alistair's coronation, because they had an improved copy of the winged circlet Elinora had worn in the parade, but with silver links of chain draping in the back. Short hair had not caught on in Orlais. The final touch was a necklace that could have been a groget; a double-headed griffon hung from several chains of silver set with sapphires and diamonds.

It was the most ridiculous thing she had ever seen. And she looked magnificent in it.

"You clean up very well." Aldo let out a low whistle, for which he received a punch on the arm. "Oh, don't go spoiling this vision now!"

Elinora smirked. "Too late." She lifted the hem of her dress just enough to reveal that once again, she wore her old boots under her ball gown. There had been fits thrown over them, but she'd triumphed in the end. Not only would she be comfortable, but the boot knife that Neven had given her meant she would be armed. Armed was good.

Aldo lead her in gentlemanly fashion from her chamber the Grand Chamber where they were properly announced to the assembled. The crowd of nobles parted as the Grey Wardens made their way to the throne to present themselves to the Empress. Elinora had been to enough formal occasions, with and without her Imperial Majesty present, that she had developed a fine obsecance that was part curtsy and part salute. Even when all dolled up, she wouldn't let them forget who she was.

Celene acknowledged the Wardens with an elegant nod and smile. Elinora could still not peg the woman's age. She could have been anywhere between twenty-five and forty. Her regal demeanor and intelligence gave the impression of experience, but her vitality said she was young. Elinora gave up on this game and focused on the one at hand.

"I hope our celebration pleases you, Warden Commander Elinora," Celene drawled.

Elinora swallowed at least three smart remarks. "It does, your majesty."

"I trust our portrait will as well."

"I am greatly anticipating its unveiling, your majesty."

Celene smiled with just enough wickedness for Elinora to worry. "In due time, Commander. One should enjoy the build up as much as the main event. Now, I would have your dance with Olfons, my third cousin twice removed."

A slight man in an over-trimmed, bright green doublet presented himself with a bow. Elinora hid her sigh with a curtsy-salute and allowed herself to be taken to the dance floor. She repressed a wince as she remembered the last time she danced was with Alistair.

Alistair. Again, he came flooding back to her in a rush of sense memories. Every twirl, every bow, every time her skirt fluttered just so, she knew she would look up and see him. Why was it that a ball, of all their shared experiences, would do this to her? They'd spent far more time covered in blood than in silk, and done far more talking over bad stew in camp than crudités. It didn't make sense.

It took a grope from a very stupid and quite drunk nobleman for Elinora to understand. As she bent his fingers backwards and directed him to the door, the realization hit her like a falling ogre. In all this frilliness, she felt like a girl again. Balls were made for young people to find each other, to share moments of contact and beauty. On cynical days, it was a meat market, but on softer ones it was a dream.

Trumpets sounded and Elinora turned from the door and her thoughts to the dais. Celene was standing and three servants were setting the covered portrait on an easel next to her. "Approach Warden Commander Elinora." Celene's command reverberated through the chamber. Elinora approached, the crowds again parting for her. At the dais she curtsied-saluted to the Empress again and turned to face the tarp-draped canvas.

"With the betrayal of Loghain Mac Tir, our forces were turned away at our shared boarder with Ferelden. We were not able to aid or share in the glory of the slaying of this archdemon. Since we could not lend Orlais's sword, we can at least lend our brush." Celene swept a graceful hand to the portrait. The servants pulled the tarp away.

"Andraste's holy knickers…" Elinora breathed, just loudly enough to get a dark look from a priest.

In the portrait she stood triumphant, Starfang held high, daring the observer to question her victory. The dragon behind her was in the midst of his death throes, it wings raised to frame her, its maul in exaggerated agony. Her hair, a good two feet too long, lashed in waves around her, and the armor was all wrong, but pretty and very low cut. Blood delicately accentuated her cheekbones from the wound on her forehead. In her other hand was her dagger, The Rose's Thorn. The artist had taken some liberties with it and added a blood red rose at the hilt. Alistair's rose.

With a blush that reached her ears, Elinora again, curtsied to the Empress. "Your Imperial Majesty… it is… splendid."

"Good." Celene raised an eyebrow and a sly smile crossed her lips. "We have commissioned a copy and had it sent to Denerim as a gift for King Alistair."

Elinora's jaw dropped and was quickly closed again. "Your majesty is too generous," she said out loud, while inside she was screaming. It was a gaudy, flaunting reminder of the battle she had forced him to sit out on. The nobles Landsmeet could take it all sorts of wrong, and Anora… oh she didn't even want to think about Anora's reaction.

So much for hoping to slip back into Ferelden.

The ball resumed its gaiety, while Elinora was trapped on the dais receiving complement after flowery complement.

"Wow, that's enough to make a man rethink his wicked ways." Burion stepped from behind her, admiring the painting, if admiring was the right word. Grin on his face said that it wasn't, and she was going to get very good teasing once this was done with.

"And battle hardened warriors everywhere heave a sigh of relief." An eye roll escaped. "Get me out of here."

Burion bowed just a little. "As my Commander commands." He leaned closer to her ear and whispered a few choice directions for a quick escape route, then turned and swept two noblemen closer to the portrait, admiring some detail or other. They blocked everyone else in movement and sight.

Elinora beat a hasty exit. She couldn't wait to get to Orzammar.


	26. Chapter 26 Confession

**Duty's Journey – Chapter 26**

**Confession**

Denerim – One week later

"Your majesty, there's something interesting in the diplomatic packet for you to see."

Alistair looked up from the trade agreement he was successfully making heads and tails out of. In the two years since the crown had fallen on his head, he'd come a long way to understanding the ins and outs of international relations. Ambassadors, official and not, were in capitals of the surrounding lands, keeping ear to the ground for any news that could prove beneficial or worrisome. Anora had helped him set it up, write the letters, know who to contact in the first place, but the idea had been his. He'd commissioned a diplomatic ship to visit the various ports along the Waking Sea to pick up any news as well. And apparently, the ship had come in.

Alistair looked up at the servant. "Well, let's have it."

The elf shook his head. "I'm sorry, your majesty, but it's a bit too big to bring in here. It's waiting in the Great Hall."

Alistair quirked a curious eyebrow and headed for the Great Hall, where he found Eamon staring at a painting, which was facing away from him. The Chancellor handed Alistair a sealed parchment and returned his gaze to the painting. Alistair followed it and nearly fell over.

"Andraste's holy knickers!" echoed through the Great Hall.

The Fade

"So, any advice about sitting for a portrait?"

Elinora turned at the warm, familiar voice with a clenched stomach. He grinned playfully, clearly amused by the delivery that had apparently made its way to Denerim. She hadn't seen him in months, since he told Anora was pregnant again, before Rainer. She swallowed and replied, "Under no circumstances or bribery should you pose with your arms raised. The shoulder ache is awful."

He chuckled lightly and moved to hold her. "Noted." She let him take her into his arms, his touch even lighter than usual. She reached for that comfortable familiarity, the warmth and safety she used to know in his arms. All she found was a wall of ice, but she rested her head on his cold chest anyway. She may never get another chance.

Alistair didn't notice. "Where are you?"

"Jader, taking a few days rest before heading for Orzammar. Getting news and supplies."

He pulled back, held her shoulders and looked into her face. "You're in Ferelden?"

She tried to smile teasingly at him. "Unless you've sold Jader to another nation, yes."

"You could be in Denerim in a matter of days!" His smile became excited and he behaved more like a puppy than a king. "Find a ship, come home!"

Elinora took a step back, away from his strong hands and arms. "I can't. Not yet."

"What? Why?"

"Orzammar first, there's something I want to do there first. Then to Amaranthine." Her hand flew to her forehead like she had a headache. "I should go to Highever sometime soon too, see Fergus. Ugh!" she growled. "Too much to do! Besides, I can't come to Denerim until after Anora has the baby. It wouldn't be seemly."

"I don't care."

"What?"

"I don't care about seemly, correct or any other business that you have. I just want you back." He spoke like a child, but not spoiled, more neglected. He shook his head. "When I got the painting you sent…"

"I didn't send it," she admitted softly. "Empress Celene did."

A painfully baffled expression crossed his face. "I thought…. when I saw the rose on the dagger…"

Her arms crossed her chest. "Coincidence." She met his eyes, even though she knew how hurt they would look. "A happy coincidence."

"So… you didn't do anything?"

"I slept with Rainer." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. They stood gaping at each other for moment, both in shock. Elinora recovered first. "I'm sorry."

"You what…"

"It wasn't something I meant to happen."

"How…"

"It was only one night!" A little hysteria was starting creep into her voice.

"How could you?"

The building hysteria was snuffed out as if with a bucket of cold water. "How could I? Fairly easily, actually. As easily as you slept with all the girls you did!"

"But I had to!"

"You had to? No, no. You had to get an heir, not sleep with every noblewoman in Ferelden."

"But…"

"I can't believe you! In two years I stray once from the man who isn't even mine and I'm the unfaithful one?"

"I didn't say that!"

"So what were you going to say?"

"I… I don't know." He scrubbed his hand through his spiky, unruly hair and looked away. "I need to… think." Alistair looked back up and met her blue-green eyes, now brimmed with unshed tears. Elinora was chewing her lower lip, looking like the wounded girl who Duncan had brought to Ostagar all those years ago, the pain of the attack on Highever so close to the surface.

He wanted to hold her, let her cry or punch him in the arm. He wanted to go back, all the way back to Ostagar. If only he could prevent Loghain from pulling out or keep Cailan off the field. Keep Duncan off the field.

But there was no going back.

Elinora watched Alistair as he twitched and pondered and finally gave her a painfully penetrating look. Under it, her eyes burned and she bit her lip, an ancient nervous habit. His faced softened a bit, shadowed by regret.

She mustn't be weak. Elinora blinked away the tears, let go her lip, lifted her chin and stood up straight. Alistair knew that posture, and she wasn't going to get away with being reasonable and brave this time. Especially since she'd just had such a tantrum. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was her way; to explode then face the problem, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Alistair held out his hand.

Elinora took it.

And like mist in the morning sun, Alistair slowly vanished. She was left holding on to nothing.


	27. Chapter 27 Impatience

**Duty's Journey – Chapter 27**

**Impatience**

Orzammar – three days later

The Assembly was much more empty than Elinora remembered it. Maybe it was just a slow day, but she had a feeling there was more to it. The appearance of twenty-five Grey Wardens should have been enough for them to come out, but the chamber was half-full at best.

Bhelen stood in front of them, the helmet of a crown that Caridin had crafted sat poorly on his head. He did not look well. Apparently, being king did not agree with him. If the population of the room was an implication, she had chosen poorly.

"Let me get this straight," Bhelen began. "You want a thaig for the Grey Wardens?"

"Not an entire one, your majesty, unless you have one you're not using." That got a small chuckled from the Assembly. "We would like space for a base of operations. Somewhere a small contingent of Wardens could be boarded. They would then train under live conditions and aid the Legion of the Dead in curtailing Darkspawn incursions. You could reclaim more of the Deep Roads."

A mutter went through the Assembly. This would be a difficult vote. While some would welcome the extra muscle and expertise of the Grey Wardens, some would see it as outsiders interfering with Dwarven culture. And Elinora had already done enough of that.

Bhelen cut through the muttering of the crowd. "We shall discuss. Come back tomorrow."

* * *

"'Come back tomorrow'?" Aldo sighed. "Is that all he had?"

Elinora shrugged and took a sip of her ale, one of the lighter varieties. "Dwarven politics are not known for their speedy simplicity."

Aldo grimaced. "And here I thought this part would be easy. No months of sitting around and waiting."

Elinora raised an eyebrow. "You weren't protesting when we were stuck in Val Royeaux."

"We weren't a mile underground in Val Royeaux."

"Aldo, are you claustrophobic?" Elinora couldn't keep the incredulity out of her voice. She'd never seen Aldo balk at anything but jogging.

He scoffed. "Of course not, a Grey Warden cannot be afraid of something so trifling as close spaces."

"Right," she murmured, watching Aldo as he squirmed just a little. She tapped and impatient finger on her tankard. "You know, I sick of all these delays myself, but I need to see this done. Why don't you select a group of Wardens to head for Denerim."

"Denerim?" Relief washed over his features but was replaced by confusion. "I thought we were heading for Amaranthine."

She shrugged and looked away. "It would be best for you to present yourself to King Alistair before setting up housekeeping. Besides, I don't have the keys."

Aldo snorted. "You just want me to get a look at this boy you've been pining over for the last two years."

Her gaze swept the room, looking anywhere but at Aldo. "I want you to give me a report on the situation in Denerim."

He couldn't hide the half-smile at her attempts at evasion. "The situation, right."

She looked back at him with playfully narrowed eyes and returned his half-smile. Aldo could always read her. "Tonight everyone stays in Orzammar, no one camps outside. I want to know who can't handle being down here. Tomorrow you choose your party and depart as soon as you're ready. No more than fifteen Wardens, and you can't deprive me of all my mages."

"Yes, Commander El."


	28. Chapter 28 Delays

Duty's Journey - Chapter 28

Delays

Orzammar – one week later

Elinora left the Assembly Hall, again, with nothing decided.

The Assembly dodged the issue, put up roadblocks with technicalities and asked questions that she didn't have the answers to. Bhelen continued to be "thinking about it" and her back up plan, Orta Ortan, had failed. Despite the proper documentation, her family had not been risen to nobility yet; something else Bhelen was stalling on.

At least evenings spent carousing in Tapsters had been very informative. It had taken a good amount of coin to loosen all those tongues, but it was worth it.

Bhelen was not doing well.

His attempts to 'modernize' had met with stiff resistance. Instead of using the intelligence and subtlety he had used to gain the throne, he was wielding his power like a maul. Three noble houses had been stripped of all their titles and holdings, the members all exiled to the Deep Roads, including Harrowmont. Several deshyrs were under house arrest or cooling their tempers in the dungeons. Many more did not leave their homes unless necessary. And the business of Surfacer Wardens was not a priority.

The Provings had gotten more deadly. Time was that a bout stopped once the loser was clearly beaten, but now it was not uncommon for one more blow to fall, killing the fighter. Bhelen's champion had killed five opponents in the last month. Elinora had been there for the most recent one. The killing blow had been deliberate, anyone could see it, and the wink the fighter had given Elinora had conveyed a threat.

The flow of gold had slowed as well, which was the real issue. Dwarves could take a lot political rankling as long as there was profit. But with Bhelen's tightening grip, everyone had become more cautious. The price of licenses and permits had gone up, the profit margins had gone down and the goods and services had become shoddier.

Lord Hemli had told her, "Bhelen's either playing deep game or he's gone mad. My money says that he's working to ruin us to make it easier to rebuild Orzammar in his image."

"But that's wrong!" Elinora couldn't hide a moment of moral outrage. She'd been raised to help the people she ruled over, not manipulate them to her own ends. "He's wrecking his people's lives just to meet his goals."

Hemli had raised an eyebrow over the rim of his tankard. "The ends justify the means. I thought that was the Grey Warden motto."

Elinora sniffed. "The last time we tried that in politics, we got banished from Ferelden for two centuries. One has to meet those ends in order for the means to be justified." She was beginning to think that the Grey Wardens should make an effort to stay out of politics all together, which might prove difficult for her.

For now Elinora would play the game and hope it ended well. For everyone.

The Circle of Magi

Aldo was impressed. A massive tower in the middle of a lake, visible for miles, the most impractical and imposing structure they could possibly have built. The Magi were trying a new tactic to reach the Maker this time. And maybe this time they would be smarter about it.

The templar at the docks had been surprised by the arrival of a dozen Grey Wardens, seven of which were mages. "I met a Grey Warden once," he babbled. "Pretty girl with amazing eyes who gave me cookies."

Aldo smiled. "Chestnut-colored hair, about this high" Aldo measured off Elinora's height, "would open your gullet if you got in her way? Or her people's way?"

"Yeah that's her, but she was nicer and had cookies." The disgruntled templar took them across the lake.

Once inside the tower, Aldo and the three mages who had come with him were given the once-over by yet another templar, then showed to an audience chamber to wait.

"Tell me why we're here again?" Scirloc muttered to Aldo.

Aldo raised an eyebrow. "After all the rumors and stories we've heard, didn't you want to see this for yourself? Besides, it wasn't much of a detour. I'll send the Commander a note from here to tell her about it."

"And do you think your Commander would be greatly distressed to find you here?" came a new, female voice from the entrance. They turned to find an elderly woman eyeing them all like boys who's had gotten caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

Aldo bowed. "She might give us a short tongue lashing, but then see the wisdom of it. I am Warden Aldo, at your service."

The mage inclined her head gracefully. "I am Mage Wynne, but the name I would very much like to know is that of your commander, your female commander."

"She goes by El, but was born…"

"Elinora Cousland." Wynne's eyes widened and a bright smile broke out, taking years off her appearance. "That's my girl," she said to herself with pride.

Aldo tilted his head. "You know her?"

The bright smile got just a little smug. "Know her? I helped her end the Blight. I patched that child up so many times… well, it was a lot."

Aldo smiled. "You and I must have a very long talk."


	29. Chapter 29 Progress

A/N: There's a reference to "Duty" at the beginning of the Denerim section, but I'm making the whacky assumption everyone has read it by now. Otherwise, this doesn't make a whole lot sense….

**Duty's Journey – Chapter 29**

**Progress**

Orzammar – two weeks later

No progress. Two weeks and no progress. Elinora had never been so frustrated in her life.

She'd tried to make good use of the time. She'd taken her Wardens on excursions into the Deep Roads, done some training. Most importantly, she'd added to their ranks. Alcina and Maphisa and both survived the Joining and were going on raids with enthusiasm. Elinora was deeply proud of them and more than a little jealous. The two were inseparable and fought in tandem. It must be nice to have someone always watch your back.

Of course, she had thirteen Wardens at hers, and they had done their job well. Last night, someone attempted to kill her.

The assassin was a casteless Duster with ten sovereigns in his pocket, a more obvious killer for hire there never was. He wasn't very good either. Unfortunately, he was very dead. Finn had taken great offense at someone trying to hurt his mistress.

Time spent in Orzammar proper was spent in Tapsters, strolling the Commons or at the Provings, all of which were excellent sources of gossip. Two new pieces of information had reached Elinora's ears. She wished they hadn't. She didn't want to get anymore embroiled in dwarven politics that necessary.

The first crept out of Dust Town. A new carta had replaced Jarvia's, which was unsurprising. What was surprising was that rumors linked it to Bhelen. Whispers had coin and favors flowing both ways between palace and slum, nothing confirmable.

The second rumble was that of rebellion. The whisper of a new coup was on every lip, never attached to the same house twice. If Elinora read that right, it meant that everyone was unhappy, but there was no unifying figure to lead them. It would never succeed, not unless there was united front, one that she wanted her and her Wardens far away from.

Elinora was tempted to give up this little venture, her Crag away from the Crag, but she had some time to kill. She did not want to be anywhere near Denerim until Anora had her baby. She could be patient, even if it killed her. Which it just might.

Denerim

"… and right there is where I paralyzed Alistair so he wouldn't get himself heroically killed." Wynne smile smugly as she pointed from the cart. "Elinora's idea, of course."

"Of course." Aldo grinned. El would do that; simple, practical and kept someone she cared about from getting hurt. This last two weeks journey with Wynne had been most enlightening. Not only did he learn more of his commander-sister's exploits, but also he learned a quite a bit about the king who loved her. Aldo was looking forward to getting a look at the man himself.

And the queen, no princess consort, who would get in Elinora's way. Wynne had joined them in order to tend to the pregnant Anora, or so she said. Aldo didn't care if her motivations were more; she'd provided the cart, which meant less walking. She and Aldo had many discussions about Jurgen's journals and the events of a century and a half ago. Wynne had endless questions that he couldn't answer. Once he could, he would sent a missive to Weisshaupt and ask Rainer to get on sending copies.

Once in the Great Hall of the palace, Aldo could sense Alistair, still a Grey Warden, one floor up and about fifty feet north. Aldo had always been good at that trick.

And then Alistair was moving towards them.

The dozen Wardens straightened their backs and prepared to salute. When the Alistair entered, they did as a unit, which made the young king blink. He scanned the group hopefully, then his face fell once he realized the Warden he wanted was not with them. Alistair recovered and returned their salute.

"Welcome brothers! And almost-grandma, too! Its like a family reunion, we should have a picnic or something." Alistair went to Wynne and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Aldo looked to Wynne with raised eyebrows. "I really thought your were joking. I owe you a sovereign."

"And you are?" asked Alistair.

"Warden Aldo, mage." Aldo saluted again.

Alistair reached out a hand with a surprised look, "So you're Aldo. Elinora's mentioned you, thought I should be jealous a few times." Aldo took his offered hand a felt a very firm grip. "Where is she?"

"Orzammar." Aldo gritted his teeth and returned Alistair's grip. "Dwarven politics are slowing down her plans. She sent us ahead to get started on Amaranthine."

"Good. It's a mess and I am impatient to have someone take it in hand, even if it's only someone she trusts and not the Commander herself." Alistair released Aldo's hand, satisfied.

Wynne rolled her eyes at the display of manly dominance. "Where's Anora?"

Alistair turned his attention to her, obviously displeased with the change of subject "Tranquility House, either throwing up all over the place or getting ready for the party."

"Just like with Maricen." Wynne nodded.

"Party?" asked Aldo.

"Maricen's first birthday. We're planning a nice little gathering at Tranquility House so Anora doesn't have to travel." Alistair scowled. "Everyone will be there."

"I will go there tomorrow, see to Anora. But for now, I am exhausted. This old lady doesn't travel as well as she used to."

Alistair grinned boyishly at her. "You'll out live us all. Spunky old ladies always do."


	30. Chapter 30 The Rebellion

**Duty's Journey – Chapter 30**

**The Rebellion**

The Deep Roads – three days later

Elinora studied the worn road sign. What was left was a cryptic bit of philosophy, but it was a new bit of cryptic philosophy. Elinora marked it on the map she was sketching in her journal as they went. It wasn't precise, but that wasn't a problem. It was more than they'd left Orzammar with.

This branch was uncharted territory, or at least not within the Memories. Though it had seen traffic recently, traffic that had tried cover its tracks. Alcina and Maphisa had a great many saucy comments for their prey, but most importantly information; they were dwarves and armed. Elinora's money was on an unsanctioned mining expedition.

And then the passage stopped. But not the tracks.

"Alright." Maphisa spread her hands. "Everyone fall back. I need to feel the air move." Alcina rolled her eyes affectionately.

Ten Wardens moved back down the corridor a bit, while Elinora and Alcina stayed, perfectly still and watching. Maphisa closed her eyes and held out her hands, feeling the air, her pointed ears twitching. She moved to the left and shoved the rock. It slid away revealing a new smaller tunnel.

Alcina moved to the newly opened passage and muttered to her sister-Warden, "Showoff."

Maphisa stuck her tongue out at the other young woman before being roughly pulled into the passage by unknown assailants.

Elinora did not hesitate; she charged with a roar.

Three steps into the passage, a dead weight fell on her from above, hitting her square in the chest and knocking her to the ground. Straddling her stomach was female dwarf, holding a dagger at Elinora's throat. "What are you doing here, surfacer."

"Exploring," choked Elinora. The tackle had knocked the wind out of her and the knife wasn't helping.

"Liar," the dwarf growled.

"Sereda!" a familiar voice boomed down the corridor. "Get off the Warden, or so help me, I'll sodding pickle your gizzards for bar snacks!"

"Oghern?" Elinora squeaked. The woman on her chest pulled her knife back with an angry narrowing of her eyes. Sereda had short blonde hair, bound in at least a half-dozen places. Her cheeks were flushed from either anger or exertion, but her green eyes sparkled cold.

Rage and cold calculation; what a fun combination. A somewhat familiar combination.

Oghern approached Sereda and put a hand on her shoulder. She got off Elinora's stomach with a growl as another dwarf appeared with an angry elf in tow. Once released, Maphisa got between the dwarves and Elinora. Alcina flanked her.

"Stand down, girls. Go fetch the others." As they ran off with a "Yes, Commander", Elinora embraced Oghern, a more welcome face than she ever would have imagined.

"Girl, what have you gotten yourself into this time?" he asked gruffly.

Elinora gave an exhausted shrug. "Just trying to improve Warden and dwarven relations, and finding myself wishing I had never heard of Orzammar."

Sereda, leaning against a wall with her arms crossed, grunted in dark agreement.

"Well, kid, you've stepped in it now and there ain't a sodding thing you can do to get rid of the stench." Oghern smiled dangerously. "Welcome to rebel headquarters."

Tranquility House

Aldo watched as Alistair played with a small herd of noble children, including his bastard nephew. The king was playing the evil demon and the children were the Grey Wardens set to slay it. Alistair was having great fun roaring about the garden, occasionally swooping back to pick up a child, swing them around, then safely put them back on the ground. Each child made an effort to be the next one to fly, and Alistair seemed to be making sure that each one got a turn.

Wynne sat next to the mage, Maricen bouncing on her knee, also watching Alistair with a great look of pride. Aldo leaned over to her. "His majesty seems to be an excellent father."

Wynne nodded proudly. "He is at least an excellent playmate, which is a promising start. The real test will be when they break some priceless antique and he has to punish them." Maricen looked up at her with the gravest concern that a one year-old could muster. Aldo wondered if he understood. Given his mother, he just might.

Aldo's eyes wandered over to Anora, sitting comfortably under a pavilion, attended by a half-dozen servants, and with a dozen powerful nobles drifting there and away. She looked for all the world like she was being tortured. Many would have labeled her a spoiled brat, but Aldo knew enough details to understand that this might be a little difficult for her. Pregnancy did not agree with her; she was constantly nauseous and had blinding headaches that no one could do much for, due to the baby. Motherhood in general did not seem to suit her, as word had it that she spent as little time with Maricen as possible. And then there was Cailin, the painful reminder of her lost husband and his infidelity.

Aldo had to agree; he would be pretty unhappy too.

As out of breath Alistair dropped onto the bench besides the mages as the children dispersed to hunt up flowers for a bouquet for Anora. It was the best Alistair could come up with to get a moment to catch up with the grown-ups. Wynne didn't come around nearly enough for his taste. "So how are you enjoying the party, my dearest not-granny?"

Wynne smiled and passed birthday boy to his almost-daddy. "Not as much as the children, but much more than your wife."

Alistair scowled, then made a sillier scowl for Maricen's benefit. As the boy giggled, he said, "Does she have that sour look on her face again? That's usually the one that comes before throwing up."

"It's not that, well, its not just that." Wynne's expression grew serious.

Alistair's mirrored her. "Uh-oh. That's always the look you get when you're about to tell me something I'm really going to hate."

Wynne's lips twisted. "I've got nothing but a bad feeling." She hesitated a moment then said lowly; "She's had an awful lot a people in high places whispering in her ear."

Alistair looked over just as Bann Keenen leaned over to say something private to Anora. Her face remained stony, but she shot the Bann a very pregnant look. Keenen left her side a few moments later to quietly chat with an arl Alistair didn't know well.

The king sighed as his face fell in his hands. "Maybe they're just planning my birthday party." None of them believed that for a moment. "I was really hoping we were passed all this nonsense."

Wynne shrugged. "Perhaps you are, but I doubt it."

The Deep Roads

"So, let me get this straight," Elinora eyed Oghern. "That is Princess Sereda Aeducan?"

"Yup." Oghern passed her a mug of ale and glanced over at the lady in question. She was busily organizing people in camp, finding food and space for a dozen Wardens wasn't easy. "Bhelen framed her for the murder of her brother, Trian, then sent her to the Deep Roads to die." Oghern grunted his scoff. "The whole Horde couldn't take down that girl."

Elinora sipped her ale and flinched; the stuff was awful. "That had to be three years ago. Before we came along," Elinora stared in her mug, "made a mess of things."

Oghern punched her in the arm. "Quit your moaning, girl. Bhelen would have gotten the throne sooner or later. He's far to ambitious to let something like a vote get in his way."

"How did she survive?"

"The Legion of the Dead. She joined up with them, fought Darkspawn until the first banished house showed up. News from Orzammar refocused her suicidal tendencies. She's been building the rebellion ever since. Smartly too. Not just a with warriors, but she's been mucking with Bhelen's plans as much as possible."

"How?"

"Strategic cave ins, whispers in the right places, a few Assembly members on our side. I think we'd be ready for a major move if it wasn't for the sodding Darkspawn. Blighters keep gnawing down our numbers and wasting our time and supplies."

Elinora chewed over this information as she chewed some roasted nug. She glanced over at her Wardens, working with the dwarves to settle into camp. "If there was to be a coup, would the Assembly put her on the throne?"

"Its what our people say, aye. Especially since we got us a secret weapon." Oghern pointed to Sereda, who was rummaging through a canvas bin. She straighten with a baby in her arms, bounced and kissed it a few times, then settled down to nurse.

"An heir," Elinora breathed.

"Aye, a right feisty little girl and daddy was a Legionnaire. That kid's got power running through her veins. Fair chance that the Assembly will put Endra on the throne and name Sereda regent. Not that it's really done in dwarven circles, but things do change."

"That they do." Elinora sighed. "Oghern, I have an idea."


	31. Chapter 31 News

**Duty's Journey - Chapter 31**

**News**

Denerim – One month later

"Your majesty, this just arrived."

Alistair casually motioned to the pile of other things on his desk, far too embroiled in with the tax system to care at the moment.

His steward cleared his throat. "Its from Weisshaupt."

Alistair dropped his pen and snatched the package from his hands. Growing hope was dashed as he looked at the writing on the wrapping. It wasn't Elinora's and she was in Orzammar anyway. Disappointed but still curious, he ripped it open to find a new looking journal. He rifled the pages to find it three-quarters full with a note stuck in the back.

_To His Majesty, King Alistair of Ferelden, Grey Warden_

_Commander El requested that I have the journal of High Commander Jurgen copied and sent to Ferelden. I am not sure why she wants it so badly, but she would have my head if I didn't. I assume you know who's eyes this should get in front of, though I would suggest your read it yourself before passing it along. It still makes me shutter._

_Take good care of her, she deserves it._

_High Commander Rainer_

Rainer.

The note crumpled in Alistair's hand, jealousy raging in his heart. He hated the condescending prick that he'd never met, and hopefully never would. He wanted the High Commander to stay right where he was; away from him and Elinora. And that parting shot, every word implying that he had failed to be what Elinora deserved in a man.

Of course, it was true. But that didn't improve a damn thing.

Alistair tossed the note in the fire with a vengeance and picked up the journal. Taxes forgotten, he settled in to read.

Orzammar

Elinora sat watching the Provings from stands. She could have gotten a private box, but that would undermine her purposes.

"Bhelen's boy seems to have a duck in his pants."

She leaned back towards the voice that had uttered the ridiculous pass-phrase. She and Oghren had been in a mug or two when they came up with it. "And a cat on his head," she replied and passed him a Proving receipt, a list of their needs scrawled on the back. She did not turn to look at her co-conspirator. She didn't want to know.

The voice behind her grunted then left. She turned just enough to see his retreating back throw the receipt into a fire pit. It wouldn't do to have evidence on you.

A cheer went up and Elinora turned her attention back to the ring. Bhelen's champion had won, and she had won another fifty silvers. Which was good; she needed to get her own supplies for another excursion into the Deep Roads. So much exploring to do, Bhelen was even giving her a small stipend for the Warden's maps, which just made the situation funny. Here Elinora was, passing messages for the rebels and taking Bhelen's coin for maps with certain tunnels left off.

So much for escaping dwarven politics.

Tranquility House

The sun was just above the horizon when Alistair rode full bore into the stables of Tranquility House.

He burst into the dining room, causing Petra to drop her fork and Wynne to stand ready. Little Cailin hopped up on his chair and took a defensive position, the most ferocious three-and-a-half year old ever. Alistair ran to Wynne and pushed the journal into her hands. "Its true!" he cried happily.

"What's true?" Wynne asked softly.

"Elinora found out that Wardens could have children. She told me, but I didn't believe it, I didn't let myself. Oh Maker…" Alistair fell into a chair with a hard grunt; he was never much of a rider.

"So, this is the infamous journal that Aldo told me about. This should make a pleasant evening's reading." Wynne flipped through it briefly, then made her goodnights with kisses for both Alistair and Cailin.

Cailin wandered over to Alistair, who picked him up and set him on his lap. "You behaving yourself?"

Cailin's eyes brimmed with tears faster than Alistair thought possible. He wailed once, then put his fist into his mouth and bit. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," Alistair said softly, pushing the boy's hand away from his mouth, worried Cailin was about to draw blood. "What's wrong?"

Cailin sniffed a few times, trying to stop crying. "Anora's mean," he hiccupped.

Alistair's eyes narrowed as Petra got up from the table, bringing a linen napkin. "She was in a rage the other day, screaming and sick." She wiped at Cailin's tear-streaked face. "Cailin came to see what was wrong and she threw a cup at him. Said… things too."

Alistair hugged his nephew to him, mumbling apologies and comfort to the boy. "Tomorrow you're coming back to the palace with me. Better raised by guardsmen and Mabari than near her." The king looked back to Petra. "Maricen?"

"He's fine. She seems to be able to handle him. Then again, she never sees him."

Alistair growled. It was time to talk with his dear wife.


	32. Chapter 32 Permanence

A/N: The last section does a brief refernce to "Duty" which I assume everyone has read. If not, read it! And "The Lotus." It still my favorite.

And everyone thank the LA Superior Court – I got lots done while waiting out jury duty. The end is in sight!

**Duty's Journey – Chapter 32**

**Permanence**

The Deep Roads – yet another month later

"Everyone in position?" Elinora yelled down the tunnel. Calls of "Aye!" echoed through the corridors and she turned to Vallis, one of the Warden Mages she'd picked up in Orlais. He nodded, moved ten yards ahead and started casting.

A green glyph started to glow at his feet. He directed it forward, to the entrance of a tunnel where scouts had found a nest of Darkspawn. With a crack, his staff struck the ground and it started rumbling. Vallis retreated back to Elinora's position and they watched as the earth shook and the tunnel collapsed. The shaking stopped, but they did not move. Elinora counted to one hundred, watching as a few more boulders slid and settled. Once everything was still, she and Vallis headed down the corridor to reconnect with their unit.

"Good work, people. That should funnel them right where we want them. Back to camp." Elinora accounted for her troops, then turned back down the corridor. It was a long hike back to headquarters.

Oghren fell in beside her. "We're almost ready."

Elinora rolled a shoulder. "Do you have the votes in the Assembly?"

"We've got a promised thirty-two, anymore and we're going to arouse too much suspicion."

"Oh please. This little rebellion is the worst kept secret in Thedas."

Oghren chuckled. "Oh aye, and Bhelen's gotten real paranoid." He showed his teeth. "Mission accomplished."

"Do you think the rest of the deshyrs will go along?"

"Nah, not all. But between Sereda's survival for all these years and her kit, they'll see she has the ancestor's favor. It'll be close, but enough." Oghren wiggled his bushy red eyebrows at her. "You ready for your part?"

"Oh, because I've done nothing so far." Elinora grimaced. "I'm ready."

Denerim

Alistair stared at the note in front him with a prefect storm of emotions raging through him.

_Your Majesty,_

_Princess Anora took a turn for the worse yesterday. I won't waste time with details, but you almost lost the twins and Anora must be put on bed rest. We will watch her closely, our magics monitoring both mother and children. We can't make this much easier, but at least we should be able to see the problems coming._

_I could really use Hennirck's journal. Have you had all Grey Warden caches in Ferelden searched?_

_Maker watch over us,_

_Wynne_

The news itself was eaten up by one little piece of information; two really. Twins. He was having twins. Twin what? No, he wanted to be surprised. But if they didn't make it… Cold fear clutched his heart.

Grabbing some parchment, he got to work doing what kings do best; give orders. He hastily scribbled a note to Wynne, thanking her for informing him of the situation and authorizing her to do anything she thought was best to see Anora through the birth. He promised to look for the journal. He even knew where to start.

He sent Anora a note as well, trying to be comforting and insisting that she listen to her healers. Wynne's warning at Maricen's birthday came back to him. Could the stress of plotting a coup be causing her problems, or was it having a Warden baby, or was it just simply carrying twins?

Even as these new worries raced through his mind, he went back to Wynne's note and added a postscript, forbidding Anora to have visitors that weren't healers or messengers from him. That should at least slow down any plotting and get her to rest.

He sent those messages off with the courier who had brought Wynne's missive, then sat down to write a third, this one to Aldo. Alistair had no right or authority to order Aldo to do anything, but he was going to do it anyway. They needed to find Hennrick's journal, the sooner the better. Alistair would get every pair of eyes on it. Besides, this really was a Warden issue.

Alistair set aside the note, and then went to his rooms to find some plain garb. It was time to take a walk.

Dust Town

Bureig Galen was the best tattoo artist in Orzammar and the unofficial mayor of Dust Town. That made him the third most powerful person in the city, behind Bhelen and the mysterious head of the new carta, but currently he was the most trusted. Much to Elinora's chagrin, the only way she could meet with him was over the pointy end of several needles.

"So," Elinora started casually as Bureig tapped out the outline of the dragon that was to wrap around her left bicep, "has life improved under Bhelen? All he promised?"

The grizzled tattoo artist grunted. "Improvement. Bah. All we've gotten is conscription into the army. Upward mobility, he says. More like down, right back into the stone."

"Sorry, friend." She gritted her teeth as the needles punctured her skin, leaving behind a permanent line of ink. "All that exploring we've been doing and all we've found is Darkspawn and one useless thaig. But still he sends troops into the Deep Roads."

He shrugged. "It was going to happen sooner or later. And it ain't the people, it's the payment." With a clean rag soaked in something clear, he wiped away at the work he had just finished, cleaning away blood and extra ink.

She hissed through her teeth as it stung. "Payment?" she croaked.

"There's supposed to be a payout to next-of-kin if someone doesn't come back within a month of when they're supposed to." The needles and tapper got back to work. "Bhelen hasn't parted with coin nor bread for those who have been lost."

Elinora knew that. She knew because half of those men were at base camp with Sereda. 'Lost' had so many meanings. "And the carta?"

Bureig rolled his eyes and dipped the needles into the ink well. "Sodding money-lenders and nothing else. Ancestors only know where they're getting their backing. Everyone in Dust Town owes them money."

"Sounds pretty dire."

He grunted. "There's an old expression about civilization being a day and two meals away from falling apart. Most Dusters don't see more than one meal a day already."

Elinora's meet his rheumy eyes and the tapper stilled. "What would make things better?"

Denerim – the Market District

Alistair pushed aside the panel that hid the door to the Denerim Warden cache. He hadn't been there in years, not since the Blight. They'd come through here, cleaned the place out of anything useful for the upcoming battle and took a few things up to Soldier's Peak. And she'd found and given him Duncan's shield here. Elinora had pulled him to a back corner, set him down on a crate, and handed him the shield, recognizing the device upon it. He'd wept a little, so had she.

That night was when Eamon and Riordin had informed the two young Wardens about the little complication to their relationship. Grey Wardens couldn't have children, they'd said. They were wrong, and it had cost Alistair and Elinora years together.

Sweet Andraste, how he missed her.

Alistair pushed the bitter memories aside and started hunting through crates, looking through every book he found. He didn't have long to spend here and the task was a little more than he had bargained for. The time passed far too quickly and all he had were a good deal of records he had barely glanced at. This wasn't something he was going to be able to do by himself.

Once back at the palace, he added to the message that would be bound for Aldo in the morning. That cache was Warden business now. He had to get back to being king.

Not for the first time, he wished he wasn't.


	33. Chapter 33 Labor

**Duty's Journey – Chapter 33**

**Labor**

Orzammar – two months later

Elinora was reading an old tome about yet another grand old thaig, now lost somewhere below, Finn napping at her feet. She was hoping the details would lead her to it, but so far, nothing meaningful. Really, it was just a way to kill time, but if she had it, she would use it.

A young dwarf burst into the Shaperate, completely ignoring the decorum that was due to such a place. "Riot! Riot in Dust Town!"

She hid the smile she hadn't managed to suppress behind the book. All it had taken was one little hijacking of a lichen shipment, what the dwarves used to make bread, for Dust Town to explode. And Sereda was ready with bread for the masses.

The Shaper looked to Elinora, who had stayed right where she was. "Warden..." he started.

"No way," Elinora shook her head, her growing hair dancing against her cheek. "I've mucked about enough in dwarven politics. I'm not getting myself or my men involved."

The Shaper frowned and grunted, then started giving orders for the place to be locked down. It was going to be a long night.

Denerim

"Your Majesty! Her highness has gone into labor!"

Alistair choked on the bite of lamb he had been enjoying. Anora was a month early, and this time it wasn't because of a calculation error, or omission.

The messenger was out of breath and dusty, obviously having run or ridden at top speed to get here quickly. Alistair was about to match him. He stood, taking a bracing swig of wine. Cailin hopped up too, eyes on his uncle. Alistair picked him up and stood him on his chair so they could meet eye to eye.

"Alright, my boy, I'm going to go to Anora, see about getting you some more brothers or sisters." Technically cousins, but Alistair was determined to see them raised as a family. "I need you to stay here and guard the palace. Listen to your nannies and don't tease the maids. I'll be back as soon as I can, or send for you once things are… over." Alistair gave the boy a kiss on the forehead and headed for the stables.

Orzammar

Hours passed, and Elinora got a little more reading done. Between pages, she listened to the whispers in the Shaperate.

"Bhelen's really stepped in it this time…."

"This is going to clean out Dust Town for sure. About time."

"How long until it reaches us?"

A pounding at the barred doors silenced everyone. A brave cataloguer inched to them and called, "Who is it?"

"Its Rokker, you sodding idiot, let me in!"

Elinora had no idea who that was, but the Shaper nodded and the door was unbarred and inched open. The sounds of fighting could be heard from below. The doors were shut and re-barred as soon as Rokker slipped in. Elinora didn't recognize the dwarf, but his armor would put him in the Warrior caste.

Rokker worked to catch his breath. "Thanks friend," he said to the cataloguer. "You!" An angry finger pointed to Elinora.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't bake."

Rokker growled at her. "Darkspawn in the mines. Very well timed Darkspawn."

Elinora tossed aside the book she was reading and stood, hovering over Rokker. She couldn't think of any other time she has used her height to intimidate someone. It was fun. Finn stood and growled at the dwarf. "Darkspawn. That's different." She collected her weapons and headed for the door.

"Warden…" began the Shaper again.

"My lord, this is my business." She motioned for the door to be unbarred and slipped out. She noticed that Rokker did not follow her.


	34. Chapter 34 Arrivals and Departures

**Duty's Journey – Chapter 34**

**Arrivals and Departures**

Tranquility House – one day later

Alistair paced the hall in front of Anora's apartments. He's been at it for hours; pacing, sitting on the bench some servants had brought, then pacing again. The sun had risen and set, healers had come and gone and come again, working in shifts. Anora's screams had stopped some hours ago, but no one would tell him why.

This was far scarier than any archdemon the Maker could have thrown at him. He could do nothing, though would do anything for the sake of his children.

Another scream echoed through the halls, but this one was different. He tried to focus, to figure out what was off about it. He thought there was a second voice and something else to it.

Alistair's thoughts were completely derailed by the cries of a baby from the other side of the door. No, two cries, each in chorus with the other. His forehead fell against the door, relieved breathing ragged. He pounded on the door twice, his exhaustion barely allowing him to raise his fist.

The door opened. Behind it Petra stood in the sitting room with a small, squalling bundle in her arms. Behind her was another woman with another bundle, also squalling. Alistair ran to them, taking in faces new as dawn and sweet as rain. And as loud as thunder. They had to be healthy, no unhealthy child could cry like that.

Petra looked up from her bundle, deep lines of sadness on her face. "I'm sorry."

"What for? They seem fine!" He grinned the children. His children.

Petra looked at him mournfully, then over towards the bedchamber. He followed her gaze and went into the room.

Anora lay on the bed. It was bloody, far too bloody. Her breath came in short pants and her skin was almost grey. He knelt beside the bed and took her hand. It was cold, despite all the sweat that stood on her forehead.

"There. Done," Anora whispered. "Legitimate heirs and you're rid of me, all in one blow."

"Oh, Anora," he breathed. This is not what he wanted. He gripped her hand tighter. Whatever was between them, he would not let her leave this world without comfort.

"Still soft." She smiled ruefully. "Beware the Empress. She has plans."

"What?"

But Anora did not answer. She would never answer again.

Alistair stayed there until Petra put a hand on his shoulder. His kissed Anora's hand and laid it beside her. He rose, and again followed the mage's gaze.

On the chaise under the window lay Wynne. Her chest did not rise, her breath did not stir.

Petra's voice quavered, but she pushed through the emotions that tried to strangle her. "They weren't going to make it. Wynne put every ounce of life-force she had into them, Anora's too."

Alistair looked at the healer in shock. "Wynne stole Anora's life-force?"

Petra shook her head, loosing the tears from her eyes. "Anora gave it. She already knew…" A sob drowned out the rest of what Anora knew.

Alistair looked down at the most maternal presence in his life. She'd healed him, advised him, comforted him and, just a few times, patched up his shirts. And now she had sacrificed herself for the sake of his children. He couldn't be more grateful for anyone else, or to anyone else. Her face in death was serene, if slightly smug. She knew she'd succeeded, her mission was complete and she could go to the Maker with a clean conscience.

Raising his head, repressing the tears he would shed later, he returned to his new children. "I don't even know…"

"Girls." Petra cleared her throat and wiped her eyes. "Both girls."

"Which one came first?"

Petra blinked. "What does that… oh, I suppose it does matter." She cleared her throat again and looked between the other healers, midwives and servants in the room. All of them returned a blank stare. "We don't know. In all the excitement…"

Alistair chuckled sadly and shook his head. "We'll tattoo their foreheads to tell them apart."

Petra laughed through her tears. "No need. Look at their noses."

Alistair did, unsure how much different one baby nose could be to another, but saw a distinction between the two.

"You," he pointed to the babe with a slightly pointier nose, "shall be call Aurora, for your mother and a new day in Ferelden." Aurora made a noise that Alistair wouldn't have called a cry, but he didn't have another word for it. "And you," he picked up his second daughter, "shall be Wynn, no 'e' at the end. I always thought it was a bit superfluous."

Petra was fully crying again, but still managed a cracking laugh. "Been thinking about this, have you?"

"Just Aurora." He stroked her pink cheek and poked her pointed little nose. "Wynn just makes sense." She blinked up at him to show her agreement.

As Alistair cooed over his new children, Petra stepped back, allowing silent tears to fall without restraint. Wynne would have been proud.

Orzammar

Elinora evaluated her troops. Twelve Wardens stood in front of six units of dwarven soldiers, a full half of Orzammar's military-might. This surge of Darkspawn was bad, as bad as they had calculated it to be, designed to pull as many troops from Orzammar as possible. It was also an opportunity to test out some new tactics.

"Warden Platoon leaders! Keep your unit together. We've got two days marching to get at the heart of this incursion. We move in a column, at least fifty paces between each unit. Units will rotate every few hours. Company, march!"

She watched as the first unit headed into the mines, one Warden in front and behind, a dwarven lieutenant at each side. They were almost organized.

_Maker, let this work._


	35. Chapter 35 Consuming

A/N: Not sure that there's a point to this chapter, but I wrote it so you're getting away. :P Ties up some loose ends and pulls others along.

**Duty's Journey - Chapter 35**

**Consuming**

Denerim – three days later

Alistair fastened the last of his golden armor into place. It was time.

Today Anora would receive the state funeral fit for the queen she was. She could have been a farm wife and still would have been a queen. He'd had the stewards put all the glory into it that their wedding had lacked. It was all he could do for her now.

Anora was beautifully laid out on the flat of her pyre, blonde hair undone and flowing, lavender silk gently wrapping her body. She was carried by six knights of her household, all in full armor. Behind them marched Alistair, ceremonially armored and crowned. Behind him came an assortment of nobles and servants, those devoted to their queen, even if she was only given the title of princess consort.

Alistair memorized each of their faces and filed them away for future reference.

They marched through the city, many weeping as they passed. He caught a few that cheered her death, but were silenced when he looked in their direction.

No matter what she had been, what she had done or not done, she was dead, and the people would be polite.

Two of the four royal children waited at the burning ring, as quiet and patient as very small children could be. The girls were only three days old and not able to leave the nursery. Maricen was squirming in his nurse's arms and Cailin's expression remained flat. How many funerals had the boy been to in his less that four years of life?

Alistair spoke, giving Anora all the titles and praise she deserved. He and Eamon had worked on that list long and hard and on what the king would say for his fallen queen.

"I did not love her like a husband should, and she returned the favor. Those who truly loved her, were her people, and that was the love she craved. I will miss her. I will miss her mind and her council. But her spirit will live on in her children, Maricen, Aurora and Wynn, for whom she sacrificed her life."

With a soft good-bye, Alistair lit the pyre and watched Anora's body vanish in the flames.

Orzammar

"I WANT HER HEAD!" Bhelen's fists struck chips off of the stone table.

"Sereda is a myth," Vartag Govorn grumbled. He was sick of Bhelen's rages. "She's dead. No one survives in the Deep Roads that long."

Bhelen threw a goblet at his advisor. "Not her, you sodding idiot, that Warden bitch Elinora!"

"What?" Vartag picked up the goblet and tossed from hand to hand. "Why?"

"She's behind this, I can feel it." Bhelen leaned over his maps, eyes ceaselessly search them. "I don't hand over a thaig to her and she goes to put up someone who will."

"Who?" Vartag had to make an effort to not look at his king like he had gone off his royal rocker.

"Sereda," Bhelen growled.

Vartag would have to handle this carefully. "Like I said before…"

"If anyone could survive down there for three years, its my big sister. But I can wait for her. In the meantime, that Warden whore takes half my army into the Deep Roads as Dust Town burns." With a sweep of his arms, Bhelen cleared the maps off the table.

"We didn't have to…"

Bhelen exploded. "Do not question me!"

"Yes, your majesty." Vartag took a deep breath, reaching for a calm that was foreign to him. "What now?"

"Writ of execution for Elinora and any who aid her."

Vartag paused, considering. "I don't think we can do that."

"We can and we will." Bhelen snapped at a scribe, who got writing. "I want copies all over the city and the market above. She'll not get away from me."

The Deep Roads

It was working.

Elinora's force met with the Darkspawn that morning after two days travel. They'd been able to keep up a steady attack for hours. One platoon would attack in a bottleneck, easily found and would killed until the passage was practically blocked by the dead, then fall back to be replaced by the next platoon. The former would fall to the very back and rest.

They're losses were few, their kills many and they could keep this up for days.

Which were all they needed, just a few days.


	36. Chapter 36 Action

**Duty's Journey – Chapter 36**

**Action**

The Circle of Magi – one week later

Alistair relaxed into his chair at the feast table, for once not being the center of attention. Over a small feast, the mages were taking turns telling their favorite Wynne stories, as apparently was tradition in the Tower. He hadn't laughed so much in ages.

"… and then she pulled me out from behind the bookcase by ear, and…"

He could see the stories of naughty apprentices being caught in the process of doing something monumentally stupid, but there were a few that were just to crazy to be believed. Toe to toe with an abomination, every other mage in the Tower down for the count? Really?

And then there were the stories that made him blush to his ears. Irving especially had a few thinly veiled comments about a young and comely Wynne with a talent for tormenting Templars. "At least," he finished, "until I distracted her properly." The First Enchanter winked an aged eye, and Alistair suppressed a shiver. Maybe it was time to outlaw his elders from talking about their sex lives.

As the feast was coming to a close, a tap on his elbow brought his attention to a young dwarf. It took him a second, but he remembered her; Dagna, the girl who wanted to study the Circle even if she couldn't do magic.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, your majesty, but I wanted to ask if you've had any news out of Orzammar recently." she asked shyly.

Alistair was taken aback for a moment. He had gotten used to either the condolences or congratulations from his people. This was a new issue entirely. "I'm afraid not, not within the last few months. I've been meaning to send an ambassador or something."

"Oh." Dagna chewed her lip and looked very uncomfortable.

"What have you heard?" Alistair asked slowly.

She looked around her. "I have it from a lyrium dealer that there's a rebellion brewing against King Bhelen. Warden Elinora's has been attached to it, but he didn't know how. He said Bhelen's issued a writ of execution for her."

"What?" echoed through the hall. Heads turned to them. Alistair ignored them. "Do you know anything else?"

Dagna shook her head in frustration. "Nothing, not even if my family's safe."

Alistair growled, but calmed himself and said to the girl, "Thank you. I'll see what I can find out." Alistair turned and headed up to his rooms, clearly intending to pack himself up and ride out as soon as possible.

As he started up the stairs, another hand caught his elbow, more forcefully this time. He spun to find Aldo with that know-it-all look that seemed to come with magical training. "You can't."

"What?"

"You can't go running off to save her." Aldo said it as if that was exactly what he wanted to do.

Alistair puffed himself up in his kingly best, which did not suit him. "I can do whatever I want. Its one the advantages of being king."

Aldo shook his head. "No you can't. Besides the political mess it would make, there's dealing with her later. Do you really think El needs you to come swooping in to save her?"

Alistair sat heavily on the stairs, all the bravado taken out of him. "Maker knows she doesn't." He buried his face in his hands with a frustrated groan. "I hate this, the not knowing, not being able to do anything."

Aldo plunked down beside him. "You and me both, your majesty."

After a few moments of manly sulking, Alistair looked over at the mage. "What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be in Amaranthine?"

Aldo shrugged. "I was, but I wanted to spend some time here, researching and such. Besides, Wynne was something. I keep thinking that if I'd been there…"

The king clapped the mage on the shoulder. "No, my brother, she made her choice and it was her time. You should have seen the look in her face… after."

"Peaceful?"

"Proud."

Aldo chuckled lowly. Wynne had been something indeed.

Orzammar

Elinora was exhausted. After five days of near constant fighting, they had finally killed every last Darkspawn that tried to stand against them. There were more down there, but they were deep and wouldn't be bothering them anytime soon.

Her troops were in better condition that she was, the rotations allowing each platoon plenty of rest between assaults. Elinora, of course, had not rested much. She was in command and had to know when to move, when to cycle platoons and count each man lost.

The counting had not kept her busy. She'd only lost seven men, one of them a Warden. That was an accomplishment, something she would be proud of later, after the kin of the fallen were informed, after she had gotten some rest, and after she knew what had become of Orzammar in their absence.

Which, of course, had been the whole point.

And once the gates of Orzammar loomed ahead, she got nervous.

She nearly fainted in relief when Oghren, a broad grin on his face, greeted them.

"We won?" she asked Oghren slid an arm around her waist. He supported her as they walked into the Commons.

"Almost," he grunted. "City's ours, but the Assembly is being its usual self. But we have a solution. And you are just in time to witness it." Elinora made some sort of questioning grunt, so he continued. "They're going to fight it out in the Provings."

She wanted to say something witty and biting, but was too damn tired to come up with anything. All she managed was, "When?"

"Tomorrow. Its all over tomorrow."


	37. Chapter 37 The Decision

**Duty's Journey – Chapter 37**

**The Decision**

The Circle of Magi

Alistair stood on the top of the Tower itself, surveying what must be all of Ferelden before him. It was magnificent, and his responsibility to keep it so, for his people and for his children. But at that moment, something much more selfish occupied his mind.

He was about set to return to Denerim, get back to the work of repairing and running a nation. His entourage, a very small one consisting mostly of guards, was supplied and packed. All he had to do was get downstairs and give the order to head home.

Or to head to Orzammar.

He could do it. He could throw a little kingly weight around and head west, demand answers from Bhelen. He'd helped put that, as Oghren would say, sodding nug-humper on the throne. The king of the dwarves owed the king of Ferelden at least an explanation.

The western sky was still shadowed, still in darkness, as she was probably still underground, possibly hiding from her death. He could be there in just a few days, rescue her for once and they'd be together. Alistair looked to the east, the rising sun just cresting the horizon. That way lay duty, work and his children.

With a heavy sigh, the king left the Tower and headed back to Denerim. He had a job to do.

Orzammar

Elinora had spent a good amount of the last few months at the Provings, usually passing messages for the rebellion. She'd always sat in the second to the last row of the stands which allowed her contacts to sit behind her and didn't block anyone's view. Today she had a place of either honor or infamy in a box with Oghren and some of the other rebel commanders. They weren't being shy about their presence. Even little Endra was there, currently in Elinora's lap and chewing on one of her bracers. It was adorable.

Across the ring sat Bhelen's coterie, half dozen nobles, including Vartag, all just itching for Elinora's chestnut head. There was more than just the fate of Orzammar and the little one in her lap at stake. If Sereda fell, the chances of Elinora getting out of here alive were not good. Especially since she had sent the rest of her Wardens on to Amaranthine, despite much protesting. She was not going to put any more lives at stake for her choices. No one had stopped them; either too busy to deal with them or satisfied that she stayed. Finn was the only one who remained with her, which was as it should be.

Elinora's attention was pulled away from the baby and her own thoughts as the crowd roared. The Proving Master had taken his place on the balcony and Sereda and Bhelen had walked into the ring. Guards within the stands worked crowd control as some started to express their anger and frustration with insults and objects.

Neither combatant so much as glanced at the crowd, cold gazes locked on each other.

The Master raised his hands and the crowd slowly fell silent. "As it was long ago in darker days, today we bear witness to a Proving for the throne. It has not been done in centuries, but not in centuries has it been needed. Sereda, second child of the late king, accuses, Bhelen, her brother and king of Orzammar, of fratricide. She claims the throne for herself and her heirs, and has the military might to back up her claim. As the Assembly is deadlocked, they will settle this the very old fashioned way. Two claimants have entered the ring, and only one will walk out!"

The crowd, quickly becoming more of a mob, roared.

Again, the Master signaled for silence, and looked down to the fighters. "King Bhelen, are you ready?" Bhelen looked up to the masses with a charming smile and waved. "Princess Sereda," there were cheers and boos to her title, "are you ready?" Sereda nodded, never taking her eyes off of Bhelen.

"BEGIN!"


	38. Chapter 38 Winners

**Duty's Journey – Chapter 38**

**Winners**

Orzammar – the next day

"Warden Commander Elinora Cousland, kneel before me."

Elinora squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and stepped forward. She stood before the throne for a handful of heartbeats before dropping to one knee and bowing her head. Eyes closed, she waited.

A few more seconds passed and the hall hushed. The ring of a drawn blade sounded, echoing through the chamber. Elinora opened her eyes to see an exquisite dagger before her.

"For your aid in the rebellion that secured my throne, I give you this dagger, an appropriate weapon for those who operate in the shadows." Elinora held out her hands to receive the blade that Queen Sereda offered. "Also, I grant the Grey Wardens of Ferelden the campsite in the Deep Roads where they spent much time over last few months. You should know the path to it well by now."

"Thank you, your majesty, on behalf of myself and the Grey Wardens." At a motion from the new Queen of Orzammar, Elinora rose. She saluted Sereda, and then stepped away from the throne.

And feasting began.

Elinora took a seat and stifled a yawn. She didn't know how long she could keep up the talking and eating and more talking before collapsing or running mad. Now that this unexpected mission was over, she was ready to move on. To where was the hard part.

Oghren dropped into a chair next to her, two tankards of ale in his hands. He shoved one into hers and raised his own for a toast. "To the Hero of Orzammar and Fereldan. Who'da thought a little human could do so much." He thunked her tankard and drank half of his down. Elinora sipped hers.

"I think 'hero' is an awfully strong term," she muttered over the rim. "I just stole half the army."

"Which was just what we needed. You played your part and played it well." He took another long pull. "Now that this over, what's next? Setting up base?"

Elinora sighed. As ready as she was for today to be over, she wasn't ready for tomorrow to arrive. "I'm going to head out tomorrow. I need more than me to get an outpost together, and my Wardens are on the way to Amaranthine." She heaved an exhausted sigh. "And I am sick of being underground."

Oghren grunted. "I know what you mean. There were days in the Blight I would have given my left rock for the shelter of the stone. So Amaranthine, eh?"

With a half shrug she said, "Maybe Highever first. I haven't seen my brother since this all began…" she counted the months and years since Fergus had marched for Ostragar, "almost four years ago."

Oghren again grunted one of his neutral grunts. "What about Denerim? Go see that king you were so fond of." He grinned a wickedly knowing grin.

Elinora shook her head. "No, not yet. Anora should be close to having the baby, but…." She stopped dead as Oghren's tankard clattered on the ground.

"You don't know." His bushy eyebrows climbed to join his spiky red hair.

She stared at him; Oghren did not drop his drink. "What? Know what?"

"Twins. She had twins."

"Oh, that's…"

"Anora's dead."

Elinora dropped her tankard.


	39. Chapter 39 Lost

**Duty's Journey – Chapter 39**

**Lost**

On the Shores of Lake Calenhad – four days later

Elinora set up camp next the rocky shore of Lake Calenhad, enjoying being outdoors. She'd spent far too much of the last two years pent up with the stale smells of castles and caves. The woods may not be the comfiest place to bed down, but it was open, airy and clean.

A good fire, a snug bedroll and a Mabari watching her back was all she needed. She could stay here a bit, maybe. Put off returning to anyone's idea of civilization, anyone's plan of what she should do with her life. No expectations, no responsibilities and the fate of nothing riding on her shoulders. A girl could live like this, a wild child of the woods.

She drifted off to sleep with pleasant fantasies of total freedom dancing in her head.

The Circle of Magi

Aldo stopped mid bite. There was something, something tickling the edge of his senses, but he couldn't figure out jut what. He got up from the table and went over to the wide window that faced the western bank of the lake. Something was there.

He was beginning to think it was all a touch of indigestion, when his eye caught a tiny pinpoint of light. Someone had a campfire over there. Aldo stretched his senses.

There was a Grey Warden over there; a Warden he knew and was currently peacefully sleeping. Anymore he couldn't say.

After some internal debating, he decided against investigating further. Aldo figured it was either a patrol or someone coming to visit the Tower who had decided that it was a good evening stay outdoors. The weather was fine for it, though he was never one for camping. Most likely this Warden would be at their doorstep in the morning.

The Fade

It had been ages since Elinora had been to their camp in the Fade, which she couldn't say was due to her own actions, or being deep underground in Orzammar. It didn't matter. She was here now, and bracing herself for seeing Alistair again.

"Well, you don't seem to worse for wear," said a warm, female voice. Elinora turned to find Wynne standing behind her, arms crossed and evaluating her in a motherly sort of way. Elinora rushed to hug her, and passed straight through the mage.

She skidded to a halt and turned back to Wynne. "That's new. Alistair and I have always been able to touch, sort of."

"That's because you two are on the same plane of existence and I am not," she explained calmly.

"Oh," Elinora said, sounding stupider than she ever had before. "What?"

Wynne smiled patiently. "I'm dead, you are not."

"No," Elinora breathed. Even in the Fade, she felt her heart beat harder in a panic of denial, then crumble with acceptance. "How?"

Wynne smiled softly. "I had to see Alistair's daughters born safely. Between myself and Anora, we put together enough life-force to bring them into the world, healthy and whole, but…"

"But you didn't make it, and neither did she." Tears fell, though she could only half feel them in the Fade. "Oh, Wynne. I'm so sorry."

"Hush girl, no reason to mourn. I lived a long, productive life. I executed my duty to whomever I was serving at the time; the Tower, the Wardens, the king. I did good work, but I am glad to be done with it. Time to rest."

Elinora wiped away her tears, and asked the questions she wasn't sure she wanted an answer to. "So, why are you here? Shouldn't you be by the side of the Maker or something?"

"In due time. I have a message for you first;" Wynne looked Elinora dead in the eyes. "Go home."

"What?"

"Go home." Wynne faded out of view, her motherly smile being the last thing that vanished.

Elinora was left alone with her grief, and an even worse question than her earlier one. "Where's home?"


	40. Chapter 40 Home

Author's Quote: "It's not years, sweetheart, it's the milage." Raiders of the Lost Ark

**Duty's Journey – Chapter 40**

**Home**

The Fade – one week later

Alistair stared into the Fade fire, waiting, wishing and praying. For what, he wasn't quite sure.

The way was clear. He'd done what Elinora had told him to do in her good-bye note to the letter; married and had three children. Well, two, or was it four? Or did it matter? They were all his; Aurora, Wynn, Maricen and Cailin, he would deny none of them and worry about succession later. Right now there was something even more pressing on his mind: the return of the woman he loved.

Word had reached Denerim about the revolution in Orzammar. Bhelen had been killed in the Provings by his sister Sereda, who was now absolved of the murder of their elder brother, Trian. The Assembly had voted unanimously to put her on the throne. Alistair could give a fig about dwarven politics right now, he just wanted Elinora to come home to him.

He couldn't wait to be with her again; to hold her, kiss her, make her laugh. That much was easy. The hard part was what came after. She was Warden Commander of Ferelden and had a job to do, which would keep her in Amaranthine. He was king of Ferelden with his own labors to attend to in Denerim. Between distance and duty they would never see each other. He didn't know how they could make a marriage, a real marriage between two people who loved each other, work.

"It will work if you try hard enough, my boy."

The warm, matronly voice from behind him made Alistair jump. Wynne laughed and shook her head. Recovered from the shock, he leaned in to kiss her cheek, like he always had, and passed through her.

He grumbled, "No fair. Its because you're dead, isn't it?"

"It is, and I can't linger long. But you need yet another little push, just like in the beginning, and Zevran isn't here to give it to you."

"What do you…."

"Go to Highever." With another calming smile, she vanished.

Highever – another week later

It still looked almost the same, and for some reason, that was the most startling thing of all.

Elinora had expected Highever Castle to festooned in scorch marks and decorated with rubble, signs of the destruction that she had glimpsed at as Duncan hauled her out all those years ago. She had anticipated desolation, but life continued; guards guarding, farmers framing, servants serving. It was all so hauntingly normal. She could almost see little Orrin running out the gates chasing after Mabari puppies.

Finn waited excitedly next to her, impatient to get to the warm fire and good meal that he knew was in there. Elinora was too, but there was a gauntlet to go through first. First she had to walk through the gates. First she had to face Fergus.

A thousand Darkspawn she could handle. The gaping hole of guilt for abandoning him, for letting his wife and son be murdered, that was harder to face. He had every right to cast her out.

She took off her helmet, shook out her chestnut hair, now brushing her chin, and headed for the gate.

"State your name and business, girl," challenged a Highever guard. He was young, probably not even eighteen, and she didn't recognize him. Then again, most of the guards had been killed the night of Howe's betrayal.

"Elinora Cousland, here to see my brother, Tyren Fergus Cousland."

The young guard stared and gulped a few times, then turned away from her. "Captain! She says she's Elinora Cousland!" His cracking voice echoed through the courtyard. Somewhere a Mabari barked and Finn's tail started to wag. An elderly guardsman approached and stopped dead as he stared at her.

The captain blinked twice. "Maker's balls… Lady Cousland! I'd know those eyes anywhere, so like your mother's" He smiled and Elinora managed to place him. He had been a guard here before, but Elinora could vaguely remember something about a sick relative right before Howe's attack. His name was Bruten, she thought. He continued before she could ask anything, "Go on up, he's been waiting for you."

She shook the captain's hand and took three steps into the courtyard, three steps before she couldn't take another.

At the top of the stairs leading to the Great Hall, was Alistair.

Blue-green eyes met clear blue, as their bodies froze and their hearts skipped a few beats.

Elinora bit her lower lip.

Alistair face broke into the wide, sweet smile she had always loved.

And everything fell away.

The years, the miles, the fights, the others; it all fell away along with her pack. She dropped it as she started to run toward the Hall. He pounded down the steps to meet her.

In a crash of armor and rivets, they met at the bottom of the stairs, arms wrapping tight around each other. For an eternal second they searched each other's eyes, looking for signs of distance between them. But no rejection waited, only love.

And then he kissed her. The spark of those early trepidatious days flared as their lips met, but with none of the fumbling. It started with exploratory tenderness then deepened into the mad hunger of almost three years apart. They fit together, just as they always had, no matter how time and experience had shaped them.

A pointed throat clearing brought them out of their rapture. She turned to face the top of the steps, as Alistair nuzzled her hair. Fergus stood at the landing, arms crossed and looking just like her father had when he was attempting to be stern.

The attempt failed, as it always did. He laughed and shook his head. "Welcome home."

Alistair chuckled softly for her ear only. "Welcome home, indeed." He kissed her brow and pulled her a little closer. A deep sense of warmth and safety settled over her like a hot bath. Elinora shifted to rest her head on Alistair's breast.

Home at last.

**Thus ends "Duty's Journey".**

A/N: But… its over, you say? But there are plot threads, just hanging in the breeze! What about Anora's warning? What about this baby stuff? What about the one that Bioware was so kind as to leave out there; Morrigan and her child by Alistair? What about our happy couple? Can they really make it work?

Oh so many issues left unresolved… I guess that means there's going to be third part…

Coming soon to a near you… "Duty's Choice: The Bastards of Ferelden"

P.S. - If you, gentle reader, noticed some other sad and abandoned thread out there, PM me and we'll see if I can resolve it in "Bastards." I make no promises, but I'd like to clean things up that need it.


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